


Good for the Goose; or, The Sexual Life of Yukiko A.

by eightofcoins



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Anal, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Fellatio, Gangbang, Happily Married, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Penetration, My girl is a slut, Post-Game, Smut, Spoilers, Where are they now?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eightofcoins/pseuds/eightofcoins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen years later, Yukiko and Souji's marriage is one of trust, love, and sex. Lots and lots of sex, including between Yukiko and men who aren't Souji. While he watches. It's complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
> _Souji/any girl, cuckolding_
> 
> _Souji loves watching his girlfriend get fucked by other men (who have no idea that Souji's hiding and watching) and he loves getting sloppy seconds immediately after the other guy leaves. His girlfriend loves getting a ton of guilt-free action while still having Souji all to herself. Bonus points if Souji and his girlfriend enjoy her getting gangbanged._
> 
> <http://badx2bathhouse.livejournal.com/543.html?thread=327711#t327711>

_September, 2026_  
  
To her parents, Souji was the perfect son-in-law: Devoted to the Inn, an exceptional chef, dutiful, polite, intelligent, handsome, charming, and completely in love with their daughter, in that order.  
  
He had even volunteered, unprompted, to take her surname after they were married, so that the family line would continue, an act that had earned Souji Amagi a lifetime’s worth of “Get Out of Jail Free” cards from her parents.  
  
Even so, Yukiko wasn’t entirely sure that even Souji could avoid a stern lecture if her parents could see them now: He was hidden in the closet of their private suite at the Inn, slowly stroking his penis, watching her through a specially hidden peephole as she lay naked on a futon, flat on her back with legs spread wide open so that one of the Inn’s guests could more easily fuck her senseless.  
  
It was better not to think of what her parents would say to her.  
  
\---  
  
Their guest was a nice Australian boy. “My dad was Baker-san, call me Jamie,” he had told everyone in his shaky but well-meant Japanese.  
  
He was a little taller than Souji and lean, with fluffy dirty-blond hair, dark blue eyes, and an easy laugh. Physically, he reminded her of a combination of Teddie and Kanji.  
  
“‘Jamie’ isn’t dignified enough,” she playfully chided him when he checked in. “Besides, you look more like a James to me. It suits you.”  
  
He smiled and threw up his hands in mock-surrender. “Very well, Amagi-san, James it is.”  
  
It was her turn to smile flirtatiously. “Amagi-san was my father. You can call me Yukiko.”  
  
James liked to surf a little (and he laughed whenever it was brought up, “Just like a stereotypical Aussie, right?”) and had recently graduated from university with a degree in astronomy, but what he really liked best was traveling. He was in Japan as an English language teacher and had decided to blow a month of his pitiful salary on a weeklong stay at the Amagi Inn, which he had learned about from the Michelin guidebook.  
  
\---  
  
2022 had been Souji’s second year as the _chef de cuisine_ and her third year as manager. They had both probably been a little too young for their respective jobs, but between Yoshida-shishou’s reasonable request for retirement after 40 years on the job and her father’s dangerously high blood pressure, the older generation had been all too willing to hand the responsibility over.  
  
2022 had also been the year of the inaugural Michelin Red Guide for the rest of Japan (not just Tokyo and Kyoto). Souji and his staff’s cooking had earned the Inn one star, “very good cuisine in its category,” a prestigious distinction that was awarded to everyone’s surprise but hers (her staff had earned three red pavilions).  
  
In the 2023 edition of the Guide, the reviewers had promoted the Inn to two stars, “excellent cuisine, worth a detour,” and a place on the Rising Stars list, where it had stayed ever since (her luxurious-yet-traditional re-decoration of the Inn had earned four red pavilions).  
  
Now in 2026, her parents were still simultaneously proud and disappointed, often darkly hinting at corruption of a staggering scale with the Michelin reviewers that prevented the Inn from receiving its third star and fifth pavilion (she shook her head whenever they voiced their conspiracy theory; she knew that they wouldn’t be satisfied until the Inn somehow convinced the Guide to introduce a one-of-a-kind four star/six pavilion rating just for their little rural _ryokan_ ).  
  
Ingredients were mostly sourced locally from around Inaba -- tofu from Marukyu was a noted speciality -- as well as delivered from various specialty purveyors throughout Japan. Traditional _kaiseki_ cuisine was still the backbone and vast majority of the Inn’s menu, but Souji had introduced subtle European and American influences with the Inn’s new signature fusion dishes, and it was safe to say that no one could find more authentic French dining within a hundred kilometers of the Inn (this wasn’t advertised, but a knowledgeable guest needed only to ask; all the staff and cooks knew that Detective Satonaka-san had a standing order for _L’Entrecôte_ -style _steak frites_ whenever she visited Amagi-san).  
  
James (who had given up mangling the Japanese language at that point and gone back to English when he discovered that his hosts were fluent) had made an off-handed remark to Souji that he’d had the most amazing _pain au chocolat_ the first time he visited Marseilles, even better than the ones in Paris.  
  
After breakfast the next morning, James swore to everyone back home in Melbourne that the best _pain au chocolat_ in the whole world was actually from a tiny little rural town in Japan.  
  
\---  
  
Souji had an excellent command of English and French, along with a little Kitchen Italian and Spanish, and, like all cooks, he could curse like a sailor in half a dozen other languages (she had always been amazed by the number of ways he could tell someone to suck his dick, even if he only rarely did).  
  
She had worked hard at university to become completely fluent in English (with only the faintest hint of an accent when she became excited and spoke too fast) and she had accumulated a working knowledge of French, some German, a little Russian, and a few phrases of Farsi over the years.  
  
Between the two of them, there was very little that any of the guests could say that they wouldn’t understand.  
  
Even if the guests didn’t say anything, the two of them were quite fluent in reading body language, a skill that came in handy for determining which guests merited “special service.”  
  
Souji and James had gotten along famously since they met on James’s first day, in part because the boy had an admirably adventurous palate, a favorable quality that iron-stomached Souji looked for in all their guests (James had eaten all of the _natto_ that was served at his first breakfast without complaint, and everything else that Souji had put in front of him in other meals).  
  
Souji took James on a mushroom hunting trip in the hills during his second day at the Inn and fishing for dinner along the Samegawa on the third.  
  
Over their own dinner late on the fourth night, her husband not-so-subtly asked her if she found their new guest attractive, and if she did, why not invite him over for some “service”?  
  
She rolled her eyes, threw one of his experimental _shiso_ -infused _brioche_ rolls at him, and feigned indignant outrage at the suggestion.  
  
Still, they both knew that James’s last night would be special.  
  
\---  
  
Souji had attended Kyoto University, where he had (when not attending classes in psychology) apprenticed himself to some of the chefs of the best _ryokan_ in the area. The old masters’ respect had been hard to earn, but he won them over, like he did with everyone (they had scoffed at his proposal that he could take classes and work in the kitchen, but Souji’s time-management skills were superhuman).  
  
Nearly two long years after graduation had been spent in France at the Tour d’Argent, under a grueling regime that he said had been harder than any dungeon (he had the scars to prove it). When he returned to her in Inaba, he became Yoshida-shisou’s _sous chef_ at the Inn, until he was called up to take over the whole kitchen when the old master retired.  
  
She had attended Waseda University, specializing in English and business. It had been exhilarating to move to Tokyo, which couldn’t have been any more different from the small town life of Inaba.  
  
Three years had seemed both too long and too short. She had raced through her coursework to graduate early, at her parents’ insistence that she return to the Inn as quickly as possible (her parents had reluctantly let her go to university only because all her teachers said it would’ve been a waste of potential to deny her).  
  
Waseda was also where the seeds her unusual love life with Souji had been accidentally planted.  
  
Her first year had been intense. While the schoolwork hadn’t really fazed her, the jarring transition of learning to live alone in Tokyo had taken its toll.  
  
Cooking for herself was still an exercise in frustration (afraid that his girlfriend would starve, Souji had patiently shown her how to make rice and fry an egg, but that had taken weeks), so she lived mostly on a combination of dining hall food, cheap take-out, and instant fried-tofu.  
  
There had been also so many new places to see and people to meet, from all different walks of life -- it had been overwhelming. Worst of all, she hadn’t had Chie or Souji or any of her friends there to lean on.  
  
It had been a hard-earned and eagerly embraced independence, but it was also more than a little scary and lonely.  
  
When especially challenging final exams for the last term of first year had concluded, she had foolishly indulged in a little too much celebratory Merlot with her study buddy from English class. Because of the wine and her months separated from Souji, she had led Aoi-kun into her apartment’s bedroom for the night.  
  
She honestly didn’t remember much from that night beyond a dim pleasure and that she had been on top. The morning after had been full of awkward, “P-Please allow me to apologize, Amagi-san, I don’t know what got into me...” this and “N-N-Not at all, Aoi-kun, I’m sure that the fault was mine...” that.  
  
Aoi-kun had been very sweet, blushing furiously as he had looked for his underpants and repeatedly bowing to her as he walked backwards to the door, muttering apologies all the while. He hadn’t been able to look her in the eye for months afterwards.  
  
She had untangled herself from the sticky sheets, showered, breakfasted, packed, and got on the train back to Inaba as scheduled. The journey had been spent calmly alternating between looking out the window, playing with her phone, and leafing through a magazine article about Risette (her new album _Reach Out to the Truth_ had just gone double-platinum in Japan).  
  
It was only when the train had pulled into the Inaba station that she had broken down and realized that she had casually cheated on Souji, who was standing at the platform right outside the window of her car. His smile had disappeared as he watched his girlfriend sob inconsolably inside.  
  
\---  
  
Souji had managed, with some difficulty, to get her to calm down enough to be coherent as they sat along a bank of the Samegawa. Through her blubbering, she had blurted out an admission to her terrible transgression and begged for his forgiveness.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Souji, please don’t hate me, I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve it, but forgive me, please, I’m sorry, it’ll never happen again, it’ll never, Souji, I’m a dirty slut, please don’t hate me, I’ll understand if you do, but please, say something, please, Souji, say something, I love you, I love you, I love you, only you, only you, only, please, please, please...”  
  
An eternity had passed before Souji found his voice. When he had spoken to her, his unblinking gray eyes bored into her, his hands balled into tight fists.  
  
“Did this Aoi rape you? Did he hurt you at all?”  
  
She had shaken her head guiltily and told him that Aoi-kun was far too shy and retiring to be the sort to force himself on a girl. From what everyone had told her of her drunken behavior at Club Escapade, she had been certain that she had taken the lead. The blame had laid squarely with her.  
  
“You’re absolutely sure? Please tell me the truth.”  
  
“I-I-It was entirely my fault, I’m the one who started it, I’m sor--”  
  
Relief had washed over Souji. He had thrown his arms around her and held her tight. “Thank god you’re safe. I don’t know what I would’ve done to this Aoi guy if he had hurt you.”  
  
She had been bewildered. Was this how boyfriends were supposed to react when you told them you cheated on them? Weren’t they supposed to give you the cold shoulder and abandon you for being a slut?  
  
“A-A-Aren’t you furious with me? I’m a slut, a dirty, filthy slut, for no reason I cheated on--”  
  
He had silenced her with a kiss. “Why would I be mad at you? I love you. Do you still love me?”  
  
“Of course, of course, of course!”  
  
“Then that’s all that matters.”  
  
“Wh-Wha--?” Had it really been that simple? “Bwah?”  
  
“Come on, let’s go back to my place first so you can wash your face. We don’t want your parents thinking that I made you cry as soon as you got home.”  
  
As they had gotten up to walk to Dojima-san’s house -- hand in hand, fingers intertwined, Souji all smiles -- it had been at that very moment that she realized, truly realized, that despite Souji’s aura of perfection, he was a real weirdo underneath.  
  
She wouldn’t have had it any other way.  
  
\---  
  
A term had passed during her second year at university before she caved into her carnal appetites.  
  
She had tried hard to be good, to be faithful, even though Souji had given her _carte blanche_ to fuck anyone she liked as they parted on the last day of the spring break between their first and second years. When they had reunited during the summer break after the end of the first term, Souji had seemed almost disappointed that she hadn’t taken up his offer.  
  
“Trust me, this isn’t some sort of trick. I know how... lonely you must feel in Tokyo, so why not have some company over? You deserve to have a little fun. It’s healthy! Really, I don’t mind!”  
  
She had to admit the truth that her voracious sexual appetite wasn’t being satisfied at university.  
  
Before their first time together, the number of times she had masturbated could be counted on her hands (and most of those times had been after her rescue from the TV World). But once she had gotten a taste of bliss that Christmas Eve (even as embarrassing and awkward as it had been when she first lowered herself onto him), it had taken all of Souji’s considerable endurance to keep up with her (Dojima-san had wordlessly accepted the fact that she had eaten breakfast in his home nearly every day after Christmas that year).  
  
Her fingers and showerhead had kept her adequately satisfied during their many periods of separation to that point, but recently they hadn’t been enough. Now that she had already cheated once, she had known she was close to transgressing again.  
  
She had bought a powerful vibrator and that had sufficed for the first term.  
  
A disquieting thought had struck her. “Souji, are you encouraging me to cheat on you so you can have an excuse to cheat on me? _Have_ you been cheating on me?”  
  
He looked like she had slapped him in the face. “What?! No, of course not! I would never cheat on you! I love you, only you!”  
  
“Then what the hell are you up to?! What’s wrong with you? Do you know how hard it’s been for me? I want to stay faithful to you! I love you! Why the hell are you encouraging me to cheat?!”  
  
“...”  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“B-Because I think it’s really hot... if you slept around.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
Between his encouragement and her hunger, she had yielded to the inevitable. By the end of the first week of the second term, she had cornered a shy journalism student from her advanced English class (the one who had been eyeing her all year), shoved a condom into his hand, told him she never wanted to see him again afterwards, and had him fuck her in the library stacks.  
  
Souji had been ecstatic when she told him during their nightly phone conversations. He had her describe in explicit detail what the guy looked like (his nose was a little crooked, but he had a nice body and a cute smile), how he did it (a little clumsy, like he didn’t get much action), how she had felt (it had been pleasantly stress-relieving, but not nearly as good as when she did it with Souji), what she had been wearing (black blouse, white skirt, red lace panties), how many times they had done it (only once, though he had made an effort to lick her out beforehand).  
  
It was the strangest phone sex she ever had (to that point).  
  
\---  
  
She always felt ambivalent about the press.  
  
On the one hand, they were indispensably useful. A single small, highly complimentary article in 2020 about the Inn had appeared in the _Yomiuri-Asahi Shimbun_ , part of a travel series on “hidden treasures,” and had driven thrice as much business to the Inn and to Inaba. The two-page article about the Inn (after the second Michelin star in 2023) in the American magazine _Saveur_ had been instrumental in attracting foreign visitors (and in garnering Souji a sort of cult following in international gastronomic circles).  
  
On the other hand, dealing with journalists was tedious and never failed to remind her of those infuriating idiots from all those years ago, when she first met Souji (and wouldn’t they have a field day if they knew what went on behind closed doors at the Inn under her management).  
  
Journalists found their story irresistible. She was a beautiful young innkeeper, heiress to a historic establishment who had been groomed all her life for the role. He was a handsome young chef, whose cuisine was a seamless blend of modern technique tempered by traditional sensibilities. Together, they had transformed the Inn from a comfortable but unremarkable spot for locals to a luxurious and memorable destination for international travelers. They were a perfect couple, high school sweethearts whose storybook wedding had taken place at the inn where both of them lived and worked.  
  
And she agreed that they were a perfect couple, even now after she had slept with a shockingly large part of their guest list and many, many others.  
  
Sleeping with strangers was purely physical, just something pleasant that she did as a hobby, like fishing (she had to admit that Souji was right; it was quite relaxing) or English-language crosswords (Souji, despite his good English, was terrible at them; he claimed her weird thought process was the key to her success). Cuckolding was a hobby they both enjoyed; in different ways, to be sure, but nevertheless, they both enjoyed.  
  
And besides, it wasn’t like they were running a brothel and it wasn’t like she was spreading her legs for anyone and everyone that passed through the doors of the historic Amagi Inn. Only when she and Souji had both found a guest to be attractive, well-behaved, healthy, and single did she invite him to the manager’s private suite on the last night of his stay for some discreet “service.”  
  
There may have been room in their suite for the occasional guest, but only Souji had the keys to her heart.  
  
\---  
  
In 2019, just weeks before their wedding (and transfer of the Inn’s ownership to her as a wedding present from her parents), she had told Souji that it wasn’t fair to him that she was the one who had been sleeping around while he had stayed faithful. She had steeled herself for the words that scared her, and had told him that she was giving him permission-- no, _ordering_ him to cheat on her, too.  
  
It was only fair, she had argued.  
  
He had taken her into his arms and smothered her with kisses, saying that she was all the woman he ever needed and wanted, and that he loved to watch her fuck other men, so she shouldn’t feel guilty. It had been blissfully reassuring to hear those words and to feel his warmth all around her, but she still had all-but-forced him to get some action on the side.  
  
She had been so insistent because she knew that Souji most definitely subscribed to the view that, “If you love someone, set them free -- if they come back, it was meant to be.” (Though she had been pretty sure that the aphorism wasn’t meant to condone serial cheating, it still had seemed like good advice.)  
  
They both had known that she would always come back. She had wanted to make sure he would.  
  
There had been another aphorism that worried her: “I can resist anything but temptation.”  
  
What if Souji only had stayed with her because he never faced temptation? She had been his first and only, what did he know? What if ten years down the line, he’d stray, find it appealing, and decide to leave her?  
  
She had to know now, while they could still work on it.  
  
After two weeks of constant nagging _(“Ooh, darling, isn’t she cute?” -- “I bet she’s a demon in the sack, honey.” -- “Look at the boobs on this one, dear!” -- “I could call Kei-chan for you, darling, she’s always liked you!”)_ , Souji had very grudgingly humored her, after pointing out that most women nagged their fiancés to _not_ cheat on them.  
  
She had retorted that most men didn’t masturbate in a closet while watching their fiancées being spit-roasted by two strapping young boys just three nights earlier in an Okina City hotel, and handed him his phone and little black book.  
  
\---  
  
Souji had ended up calling a girl he knew from university who he thought might have liked him and had spun her a story that he was going to be back in Kyoto for a few days. Would Hitomi like to walk around town in the afternoon for old times’ sake and then go out to dinner with him?  
  
Hitomi said yes, of course.  
  
Why wouldn’t she? After all the men she slept with, Yukiko still found Souji to be the most attractive, now more than ever.  
  
Over the years, Souji had grown to be more deliciously masculine, his jaw a little more square, his body still lean but more muscular from his rigorous exercise regimen (to his own horror, Souji had gotten a little soft after his stint in Paris, where irresistible _pâtisseries_ and their devilishly addictive _pain aux raisins_ were around every corner, so he had thrown himself into exercise as soon as he had returned to Japan; she probably hadn’t made him feel any better when she had constantly poked his little belly and said, “Boop!”).  
  
Though he was paler than ever from spending far too much time under fluorescent kitchen lighting and no amount of sleep ever seemed to lessen the dark circles under his eyes (the rigors of world-class level cooking had begun to wear on him), Yukiko wouldn’t change a thing about him, especially not his wonderfully ample endowment.  
  
Which would be reaming another woman in just a few hours, if all would go according to plan.  
  
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she had ridden the train to Kyoto with Souji, her hand limp and clammy in her fiancé’s all the way. She had been about to watch her Souji seduce and sleep with another woman, at her insistence. The closer they got to Kyoto, the less agreeable the idea had seemed.  
  
“Don’t worry, Yukiko, I’m so out of practice, Hitomi will probably slap me in the face for suggesting anything,” Souji had tried to reassure her, unsuccessfully.  
  
From behind bushes and café tables and comically upside-down newspapers, she had watched her fiancé apply the patented Souji Seta magic to his classmate, a charm that nearly got half of Inaba out of their clothes back in high school, though he had been too much of a gentleman to have taken advantage of it.  
  
Well, he had taken advantage of it once: Yukiko had been the one to deflower and be deflowered by him that special Christmas Eve (that went well into Christmas Day).  
  
Jealousy had surged through her as she watched Souji subtly, inexorably seduce Hitomi with witty conversation and well-calculated touches, but she had fought down the urge to claw out the other girl’s eyes (Hitomi’s frequent tittering laughter had rubbed Yukiko the wrong way). Within seven hours of his arrival in Kyoto, Hitomi had been on all fours in his hotel room, wiggling her naked bottom in the air and begging Souji to fuck her raw (was that really how former shrine maidens were supposed to behave?).  
  
Yukiko had hidden in the closet of their hotel room (having arrived just minutes before Souji and Hitomi did), just like he had done so many times before while she had had her sport.  
  
Hitomi had a slim, petite figure, delicate features, fair skin, and glossy black hair that had recently been cut stylishly short, to Souji’s regret (he could spend hours happily stroking Yukiko’s long hair, so she had continued to grow it out for him, until black silk cascaded just past the small of her back; she wore it in an elegant chignon when on the job at the Inn, to be professional, but left it loose otherwise).  
  
Yukiko hadn’t known whether to be flattered that Souji picked a girl that looked so much like her, disappointed that Souji wasn’t taking advantage of the opportunity to be more adventurous, or worried that Souji only found her attractive because she fit his clearly favored type.  
  
After sending Hitomi to cloud nine with his tongue, Souji had fumbled with the condom (Yukiko and he always made love bareback, both finding the idea of latex separating them to be unromantic) before slowly satisfying his mistress’s body and his fiancée’s curiosity at the same time.  
  
A trembling hand had unconsciously slipped under Yukiko’s moist panties as she had watched her Souji fuck the stuffing out of the little tramp. She had hated what she had been seeing with every fiber of her being, but she couldn’t help but be aroused by the display of her fiancé’s virility.  
  
As Souji and Hitomi had laid in each other’s arms afterwards -- he pensive, she euphoric, both spent -- he had whispered, “I’m really very sorry, Hitomi, but I’m afraid I would prefer if you didn’t stay the night. Please allow me to walk you home.”  
  
A visibly disappointed Hitomi had allowed herself to be dressed and led out the door.  
  
Souji hadn’t returned to the hotel room for an hour and a half, the longest 90 minutes Yukiko had ever lived through. Hadn’t Hitomi said she lived less than 20 minutes away from the hotel? What could have been taking so long? Had her Souji decided to run away with that harlot, never to return?  
  
No. He would never.  
  
Right?  
  
She had decided to calm her nerves by fussing over how she looked. She had already stripped down to nothing but a black garter belt and sheer stockings, and had been trying to decide on how best to pose sexily on the bed (turned-down with fresh sheets at her request by the very responsive staff) for Souji’s return. She hadn’t wanted to let that little bitch be the last thing Souji thought about before going to sleep that night.  
  
When he had finally entered the room to find her in an outrageously obscene pose, his jaw dropped and his clothes flew off before the door had finished closing.  
  
Still, as thousands of passionate kisses and touches had roamed all over her body, she had been worried by the fact that Souji seemed to be reluctant to actually, you know, stick it in her.  
  
“Mmmmm, Souji, darling, hurry up and fuck me!... Unless you’d prefer to invite Hitomi-me over again...”  
  
“I’m sorry, it’s just that Hitomi was very insistent on giving me farewell blowjob at her place, and now I feel all dirty.” He had glanced over to the bathroom and smiled invitingly. “Want to help me clean up?”  
  
Ever the hospitality professional, she had absently noted that the hotel had an admirably efficient water heater, because their hour-long shower had been piping hot the whole time.  
  
Before they had drifted off to sleep between crisp 600-thread-count Egyptian cotton, he had idly stroked her hair and asked her, “Could we never do this again? I don’t think I like it very much.”  
  
She had kissed him deeply, then simply said, “I think that would be best.”  
  
They had spent the next day in Kyoto much more pleasantly. He had showed her to all his favorite spots in the city during the day and took her out for his favorite restaurant for dinner. Then he had watched her pick up two eager boys from a bar for a little threesome in the hotel room, before he personally had finished her off for the night.  
  
As they had ridden back to Inaba the next morning, she had thought their Kyoto weekend had been quite enjoyable in the end.


	2. Chapter 2

Yukiko and Souji had told Kasai about their little “special service,” since she would’ve found out anyway as Yukiko’s right-hand woman. She disapproved but nonetheless helped enable their “service” sessions and helped keep it hidden from the rest of the staff, no doubt out of a desire to avoid scandal and an old-fashioned sense of duty (though none of them were able to hide the fact that the Inn’s manager and head chef fucked each other like rabbits, to the staff’s quiet bemusement).  
  
Yukiko had thought about telling Chie, but visions of a bruised and broken Souji stopped her.  
  
She was pretty sure that Chie wouldn’t understand, happily married as she was in a normal relationship. Chie had married Kou-san in early 2022 after a whirlwind courtship (“Don’t think, feel,” apparently also applied to accepting engagement proposals).  
  
Kou-san had carried a torch for Chie through the years, and only finally had the guts to ask her out in late 2020 (Chie had been completely surprised that a boy like Kou-san found a girl like her attractive, but she had no complaints after their first date). He absolutely worshipped the ground Chie walked on and Chie was nothing if not loyal, so they would be the last people Yukiko knew who would ever cheat on each other, permission or not.  
  
Inadvertently, Yukiko had tested the waters during a girls’ day out with Chie in Okina City in 2023, and found them uninviting.  
  
“Hmm, how ‘bout this one?” Chie had put a frilly blouse up to her torso.  
  
“Very cute... But would Dojima-san think it’s professional enough for one of his detectives?”  
  
“It’s not for the Chief, it’s for Kou. Well, not for Kou, exactly. More like for his parents.”  
  
“What does a cute top have to do with Kou-san’s parents? Ooh, this skirt would look good with it, you’ve definitely got the legs for it.”  
  
Chie had considered the high-slitted pencil skirt, before blanching at the price tag. “Ah, they’ve never said anything ‘cause they’re polite like your folks, but I can tell... I don’t exactly fit their idea of what a daughter-in-law should look like, what with the pantsuits and handcuffs. Haha, the things we do for our guys, right?”  
  
Yukiko had smiled to herself. _Like fucking hundreds of strangers while he hides and watches._ Then she frowned.  
  
“That’s silly, Chie, I don’t think the Ichijos would have a problem with that. Well, at least not Kou-san’s parents.”  
  
Chie had looked a little guilty. “Mmmm. Well, alright, you got me, I kinda... I kinda want to dress up for Kou. To get myself in the mood.”  
  
“In that case, how about this?” Yukiko had giggled and pointed to a glittery backless dress that showed the mannequin's cleavage down to well below the navel.  
  
“Ha ha, Yukiko, very funny. I’d arrest myself for soliciting if I wore that! Sheesh!”  
  
“Okay, that might be a little too much. But what’s the problem, Chie? You and Kou-san look so happy together.”  
  
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Yukiko. I mean, Kou is still so beautiful, but we haven’t... you know... been... been doing... _it_ as much lately... jeez, this is so embarrassing to talk about!” Chie had hidden her blushing face behind the blouse in her hands.  
  
“Why don’t you do it with someone else?” Yukiko had said matter-of-factly while browsing through some skirts for herself (she had needed a replacement for the tweed mini that Souji had accidentally come all over during a lunch rendevouz on top of the desk in her office, not to mention the pantyhose that he had impatiently torn a hole in).  
  
“Wh-What?!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Yukiko... Yukiko, you just said, ‘Why don’t you do it with someone else’!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You tell me!”  
  
“Tell you what?... Oh. Oh! You... You must’ve misheard me.”  
  
“Then what _did_ you mean?”  
  
“G-Good question. I meant... I meant... Why don’t you... _imagine_ doing it with someone else! Yes, hahaha! Imagine! I saw it in a ladies’ magazine once! You know, how to get the passion back in--”  
  
“Ew, gross! That’s like cheating, I couldn’t cheat on Kou! Wait, don’t tell me _you_ think about someone else when you’re doing it with Souji!”  
  
Well, _technically,_ she never thought about anyone else when she was actually doing _Souji,_ but...  
  
“No no no no! Hahahahaha, no, of course not! That’s, uh, that’s disgusting! Never! Hahaha, I could never cheat on Souji, I’m not some desperate nymphomaniac who sleeps with every cute guy she sees, hahahaha...”  
  
With her hands on her hips, Chie stepped in close to Yukiko, face-to-face, and stared her in the eyes. “Good, you’d better not even _think_ about it! I mean, Souji worships you! Do you know how many women in Inaba would _kill_ to be you? This might be harsh, because even though you’re my best friend, I’d have to kick your ass if you ever hurt Souji like that, understand?”  
  
Alright, so it was more that visions of a bruised and broken Yukiko had prevented her from telling Chie (who in the end had used her department-issue handcuffs to play creatively with the surprisingly submissive Kou-san), but it was probably best that only Kasai knew (though Yukiko did have a friend elsewhere who knew about her unusual sexual habits).  
  
“It’s not my place to tell you how to live your life, Yuki-chan. But please, please do be careful. I don’t want you or Souji-san to get hurt.”  
  
That night, Kasai had quietly entered Baker-san’s room and told him that the manager had a matter of grave importance to discuss with him in her private suite.  
  
\---  
  
This was going to be the last tryst for a while, maybe forever.  
  
She had resisted her parents’ insistent demand for years at this point, saying that she and Souji were too young, too busy. But now that they were in their early 30s and the Inn was doing well enough to comfortably expand the staff (so that she and Souji could reduce their hours a little), even she felt that it was the right time to try for children (Souji jokingly told her that she wouldn’t be naming their children; there would be no Chosokabe Amagi on his watch).  
  
That meant going off birth control, and that meant no more meaningless sex with strangers (or at least strange men).  
  
So if this had to be the last time, she wanted it to be perfect, something that she and Souji could remember for the rest of their lives.  
  
For the last time, she carefully slipped the diaphragm inside herself; she was still on the Pill (and had been ever since she and Souji had started to have sex), but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Asking the guest to wear a condom would have been safest, but Souji loved to see and feel and taste the sticky proof of her infidelity inside her (and she was touched by the implicit act of solidarity; Souji was physically sharing in the risk every time she slept with a guest, so if she ever got sick, he volunteered to share in its misery).  
  
Fortunately, between her, Souji, and Kasai’s combination of people-reading skills, discreet peeking in the hot springs, and careful snooping through personal belongings, they had never caught as much as a cold from a guest (and condoms, when necessary, had been quite effective with her other one-night stands outside of the Inn).  
  
\---  
  
She was glad that it was James who would be her last, at least for a while, maybe forever.  
  
She slept almost exclusively with foreigners at the Inn. It was exotic and made the whole situation even more exciting, as if cuckolding her husband while he watched wasn’t enough of a thrill.  
  
There was a practical side to sleeping with foreigners, too. Almost none of them could speak Japanese beyond half-hearted _konishiwa_ ’s and _sayonara_ ’s, so there was little chance of them spilling the beans. Foreigners went home to somewhere that wasn’t Japan, so even if they told their far-fetched stories of a mysterious oriental inn with a beautiful nymphomaniacal manager, no one she knew would ever find out. Or believe them.  
  
In any case, it would always be possible to deflect any accusations as simple bad manners by the _gaijin_ (in actual fact, all of her guests had been quite well-behaved, if for no other reason than being intimidated by Souji’s theatrical knife-sharpening every morning).  
  
Not that James would kiss and tell. He seemed too sweet and trustworthy for that.  
  
She wanted to make sure this was a secret that he would be proud to keep.  
  
\---  
  
Being fucked on all fours was her favorite position with the guests, partly because it encouraged them to pound her hard, but mostly so that she wouldn’t have to look at them.  
  
It wasn’t because they were unattractive. Honestly, it seemed that Souji had higher standards than she did, because he only ever suggested guests that wouldn’t be out of place as the leading men in one of Rise’s movies (and one of them _had_ been, a young American boy who had attended one of Rise’s wrap parties at the Inn).  
  
She had to admit that her husband had excellent taste in men. Over the years, she quite enjoyed the procession of muscular French firemen, lithe Spanish athletes, delicate English musicians, sensual Korean writers, charming American jewelers, gorgeous Brazilian tailors, and sweet Australian astronomers, amongst many, many others.  
  
It was simply that she never desired an emotional connection with any of them. To her, they were a pleasant diversion, a more enjoyable alternative to her vibrator: Warm hands, a slippery tongue, and 15 centimeters or so of hot, hard flesh attached to an attractive container.  
  
She also didn’t like to let them see her come, to let them have memories of the face she made. That was a treasure that she reserved for herself and her husband.  
  
But for James -- handsome James, charming James, her last guest -- she would make an exception and make love to him face to face. She wanted to see his blue eyes light up as he came.  
  
\---  
  
In all this time, to her surprise, no guest had ever declined her.  
  
She supposed that Souji’s people-reading skills really were infallible and only the willing had been chosen. Even as she grew a little bit older and the guests all seemed to be a little bit younger, her beauty was apparently irresistible.  
  
It had been surprisingly easy for her to pick up men while at university, since she basically just had to show up to parties or bars and seem a little ditzy and willing (but not _too_ willing). She hadn’t even needed to dress provocatively; her “hunting” wardrobe had consisted of her usual demure blouses and skirts (alright, she didn’t usually wear such high heels or such skimpy underwear).  
  
At the Inn, she attracted guests simply with a few extra, flirty smiles, some lingering handshakes and touches, loosening her hair in front of them, maybe being a little more clumsy than usual (literally bumping into them, dropping things and bending over while wearing short skirts, “accidentally” entering their rooms when they returned from bathing), using more French phrases than usual. It was all pretty clichéd, but her special guests responded enthusiastically to the attention.  
  
Part of her was glad that she was going to quit while she was ahead, rather than becoming a desperate, overly-ripe specimen like old Kashiwagi-sensei had been all those years ago in high school, all saggy cleavage and overpowering perfume. She couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at the thought of a washed-up 45-year-old Yukiko Amagi on the prowl for boy toys.  
  
Souji disagreed (though he did shudder at being reminded of Kashiwagi; the old cougar had tried to pounce on him too often for comfort). Pervert that he was, he was entirely convinced that she was rightfully going to be the subject of their children’s (and grandchildren’s) classmates’ masturbation fantasies for years to come (just like her mother, he said; she wasn’t quite sure what to make of that revelation).  
  
Why not help some lucky and eager young boy become a man, like she had at university with her harem boys?  
  
She playfully punched him hard on the shoulder and rejoined, “What about you? I’ve seen your father and Dojima-san, you’ve clearly got good genes on both sides. You’re definitely going to be a... a... what’s the English word... a DILF!”  
  
“A what?”  
  
“A Dad... I’d... Like... to... Fuck.”  
  
Souji blushed fiercely, shaken by the prospect of jailbait throwing themselves at him. It would be like high school all over again. “Well, so long as it’s only you that thinks that, I think I’ll be okay.”  
  
\---  
  
She once thought seriously about sleeping with Dojima-san years ago when Souji was working abroad, but in the end she didn’t have the heart to hurt Dojima-san, as it undoubtedly would. If she had managed to seduce him (and here she wasn’t entirely sure that her well-practiced charms could overcome Dojima-san’s unshakable sense of propriety), the guilt of sleeping with his nephew’s girlfriend/fiancée/wife would surely eat away at him.  
  
That was one fantasy that she never disclosed to Souji (though she had often imagined Dojima-san in all his mature masculine glory when she masturbated while Souji was abroad). She didn’t know what would be worse: That Souji would get mad at her for even suggesting such a terrible thing, or that he would enthusiastically urge her to cheat on him with his own uncle while he watched. Probably the latter.  
  
And she sure as hell would never tell Souji about her depraved fantasies about Nanako-chan (best left unsaid), who had grown up to be a sweet, kind, beautiful young woman.  
  
She always felt like a dirty child molester every time Nanako-chan came over to do part-time work with her Big Bro, even though Nanako-chan was most certainly legal by this point. Yukiko told herself that she would just have to disciplined when Souji inevitably hired his Little Sis to work in his kitchen (Nanako-chan was training to be a pastry chef at school; she had easily mastered making the Inn’s signature _matcha_ -and- _yuzu_ macarons that awaited every guest in their room when they checked in).  
  
All she had to do was force herself to keep her eyes on Nanako-chan’s face when she talked to her, not allowing them to roam all over Nanako-chan’s perky breasts and cute little butt and... dammit!  
  
What was it with his family that made them so damn attractive?  
  
\---  
  
In idle moments, she occasionally thought about sleeping with her closest friends. She never actually would, of course. It would destroy whatever trust and respect that they had for her.  
  
But it didn’t hurt to imagine, did it?  
  
Yosuke was easiest to imagine, oddly enough. She had fucked dozens of boys like him at university, so she knew what to expect: Over-eager fumbling with her clothes, well-meant but sloppy kisses, an odd mix of nervousness and bravado during the act itself, a pleasant but quite ordinary orgasm for her, and a boy fast asleep in her arms before he had even pulled out. Well, maybe she was being unfair to him. High school Yosuke might have been like that, but successful, confident adult Yosuke (a TV show producer for the NHK) would probably be a lot smoother (and longer lasting). Shame that he in a happy relationship, though (and quite un-self-consciously gay).  
  
Kanji-kun would be a hard nut to crack. He had seen her naked quite often during her frequent _kimono_ and business suit fittings, but he was always too flustered by his mischievous _senpai_ ’s behavior to ever be aroused. It wasn’t strictly necessary to be naked, of course, but she loved to see Kanji-kun blush. Whenever he turned his back on her, she would slip out of her bra and panties. “I wouldn’t want those to get in the way of an accurate fit,” she’d tease. He would always turn around and cover his eyes with his hands, and tell her to stop joking around and put her underwear back on before he told on her to Souji-senpai. She felt a little guilty afterwards, because Kanji-kun deserved someone special, not a tease like her. He had had a few boyfriends and girlfriends since high school, but none of them had ever been “the one.”  
  
Teddie reminded her of her harem boys, innocent and so eager to please. He had barely aged over the years, appearing to be a third-year high school student while the rest of the Investigation Team passed 30. He had attended Yasogami for three years when they were away at university, the Hanamuras having told the teachers that he was a cultural exchange student they were hosting, which was true in a way. Though Teddie had become much better integrated with the human world, he still had a curious blend of naiveté and insightfulness. Just as well, because that was a combination she enjoyed in a lover.  
  
Rise had been the closest Yukiko had ever gotten to actually sleeping with one of the Team. Rise (no longer Risette) was a movie star now, noted for her ability to fully inhabit her characters, as if she really understood what made them tick; she was a favorite of the art house film crowd. The Inn’s hot springs were Rise’s favorite destination whenever she could take a break from work, and Yukiko usually took the opportunity to bathe with her. Rise was quite fond of skinship, which Yukiko took full advantage of.  Their playful groping and squeezing and petting sometimes threatened to go too far, but Rise always knew just how to gently stop her, as if she could hear what was in Yukiko’s heart.  
  
Naoto-kun, with her smooth skin and nice bouncy breasts, was a favorite fantasy. Yukiko thought Naoto-kun’s girlfriend had been a good influence on the detective, having helped dispel Naoto-kun’s grief after the death of her beloved grandfather (and Tsumugi-san had been the one to convince Naoto-kun to stop binding those luscious breasts of hers). Naoto-kun’s girlfriend was an aspiring novelist who also wrote pornographic short stories under a _nom de plume_ for fun (Yukiko put her in touch with a certain aspiring _mangaka_ she knew, and the two collaborated on a popular series of shockingly perverse adult light novels). When she wasn’t writing, Tsumugi-san was soaking in the hot springs, whither she dragged Naoto-kun away from her heavy caseload at every opportunity for some relaxation (and a little discreet open-air hanky-panky, which hadn’t escaped Yukiko’s notice).  
  
And of course there was Chie, dear Chie, sexy Chie, Detective Satonaka, Mrs. Ichijo, the forbidden fruit forever out of reach. She knew that she could never just walk up to Chie and ask for an evening of perfect pleasure _(“Hey, Chie, we’re best friends forever, right? Wanna fuck?”)_ ; she just didn’t have the courage to break that seal of trust. To make things simple, she wished that Souji would just throw Chie to the ground during one of their early morning runs and savagely fuck her until her eyes rolled into her skull from coming too much.  
  
Maybe that would teach Chie that cheating wasn’t so bad, was it? It could be fun! Maybe then, she could finally go up to Chie, whisper _“I need you”_ into her ear, and have her _finally_ understand what was needed: Two long, strong legs twined around her own, so that they could feel the delicious combined heat of their hot, wet slits as they locked together in ecstasy.  
  
And why not invite Souji? Chie had had a little crush on him in high school (who hadn’t?), so they could have a fun little threesome. Ooh, and Kou-san was gorgeous, too, so he deserved a place (that ought to spice up Chie and Kou-san’s love life). A nice foursome between friends couldn’t hurt, right? (After all, the four of them had gone on plenty of double dates, so how about a little double penetration?)  
  
But no, Souji recoiled in shock when she told him one night, right before the last staff meeting of the evening, about the fantastic idea of him basically raping her best friend just so she could fuck her afterwards without feeling guilty.  
  
“Who said anything about rape, darling? It’s just surprise sex she doesn’t know she wants! Trust me, she’ll love it!”  
  
“Yu-Yukiko... I think you’ve been working too hard lately. Why don’t we go to bed early, right after the meeting? I’ll bring up your favorite _sake_ and give you a massage and we can watch some videos. Sound good?”  
  
She reluctantly let the matter drop.  
  
\---  
  
Normally, she would dim the lights a little and have some top-shelf _sake_ (a local brand of _nigorizake_ that Naoki-kun highly recommended and was her favorite) ready in her room for their guests. The alcohol wasn’t there to cloud their judgement, it was there merely to help them relax. Though all were quite willing, many guests needed the liquid courage to continue.  
  
James apparently didn’t drink alcohol anymore, saying that a few of his friends’ over-enthusiastic and near-death experiences at university had scared him off, so she had Souji bring up some of the sparkling peach nectar that James liked instead.  
  
The comfort of the guest was essential, but she regretted the lack of romance with fruit juice.  
  
The illusion of a more romantic era was a large part of the appeal of the _ryokan_ experience, allowing the guest to imagine that he was part of a world where men lived for glory and died for honor, where women may merely have been prizes, but prizes that could only be won through epic deeds and noble hearts.  
  
It was a storybook world that she had always loved, even after her embarrassing dungeon, even though she was “only” the damsel-in-distress. But beware, gallant knights: The man-eater you should fear is not the foul dragon, but the fair maiden.  
  
She herself would have to compensate for the lack of romance, which was easily accomplished. She dressed for the part of the exotic lover in nothing but an exquisite crimson silk _tomesode_ with a snowy white lining, one of Kanji-kun’s finest.  
  
The Lady in Red. The classics were classics for a reason.  
  
Souji helped her dress for the occasion, as he always did, taking the opportunity to slide his clever hands all over her flawless skin. She savored the contrast of smooth silk and rough cook’s hands gliding over her sleek legs, curved hips, narrow waist, and modest breasts. Familiar fingers dipped inside her hairless mound and felt the wet heat of her excitement. With well-practiced precision, he tied her colorful _obi_ in an ornate bow; she smiled as her husband lovingly finished wrapping the gift of her body for their guest.  
  
Looking in the mirror, she was grateful that the years had been very kind to her. Of course, 31 (almost 32) wasn’t particularly old, but she had seen how the stress of the job had aged her father.  
  
She seemingly handled that stress better than he did, because there was barely any physical difference between the Yukiko Amagi who graduated with honors from university in 2016 and the Yukiko Amagi preparing for her last tryst with a guest a decade later.  
  
That difference had been easily eliminated with the barest coat of foundation to hide the faint dark circles under her sleep-deprived eyes and a subtle pink lip gloss; a tasteful sheen of smoky eye shadow was added for dramatic effect. Aside from those trivial enhancements, her radiant beauty was all natural.  
  
The worldly, confident, self-assured look in the eyes of the current Yukiko Amagi was something to be proud of, so she made no attempt to hide that. She knew who she was, what she wanted, and just how to get it.  
  
Souji took his wife in his arms and carefully kissed her bare neck, then withdrew to the closet to enjoy the show.


	3. Chapter 3

James was quite nervous to begin with, afraid of embarrassing himself before the gorgeous older woman, but a tender kiss to his cheek seemed to embolden him. He took the lead and she allowed him to kiss her deeply on the mouth, another exception she made for her last guest.  
  
Allowing strangers to kiss her on the mouth, oddly enough, was the only thing that Souji was noticeably intolerant of. He had no problem with other men’s penises parting her lips, with their semen dribbling down her chin, with any obscene thing she invited them to do to her (so long as they didn’t hurt her), but even a quick peck on her lips roused him to green-eyed jealousy.  
  
It had been the cause of one of their (blessedly few) quarrels.  
  
Of course, they had their share of disagreements. For example, she never understood how a neat-freak like Souji could have the most disorganized and unruly kitchen inventory system in the world (he claimed that it made perfect sense, but only a madman would say that sorting ingredients by their “closest” tarot card symbolism and calling his recipes “fusion forecasts” was sane). His system had made it twice as hard in the beginning for her to balance the books, until she washed her hands of it and asked Souji to simply tell her the amount of yen he needed to run the kitchen each month, leaving him to his own devices otherwise (though she did have to keep him on a tight budgetary leash; she shuddered to think that the Investigation Team had trusted him with the finances back then, what with him spending more than half of his income on magic leaves purchased from a fox).  
  
But that was just business. The “letting other men kiss her on the lips” issue had cut to the core of their marriage, and she honestly had been scared for it.  
  
They had been married for six months when she entertained her third guest at the Inn. The guest had been a mild-mannered young New Zealander architect who had transformed into a smolderingly passionate lover in the bedroom. His lips had been glued to hers for the whole night, as he slowly and surely drove Souji up the wall figuratively and drove her up the wall literally.  
  
She hadn’t thought kissing was verboten at the time, because Souji had never commented before when she had sloppily made out with her one-night stands in Tokyo or had given cum-smeared kisses to her harem of boys after her university gangbangs or had tongued her girlfriend in Okina City.  
  
There had been a frosty silence between them for a week afterwards.  
  
They still had had sex during that time (of course), but Souji had seemed distant as he mechanically thrust into her without any of his usual foreplay before or cuddling after, leaving her unsatisfied even as she came again and again (his technique had been impeccable, as always).  
  
She had never seen him so petulant. He had even refused to share their usual “good morning” kiss before work, turning his head so her lips landed on his jaw.  
  
Had the honeymoon already been over? Had he been tired of being married to a dirty slut after just six months? Well, just whose fault had it been that she had become a promiscuous nymphomaniac? If he had anything to be upset about, it should have been his own deviant fetishes, not her.  
  
Finally, she had had enough and slapped his face as he perfunctorily served her breakfast in their suite one morning, leaving behind a bright pink handprint.  
  
“What the hell is wrong with you, Souji? I’m warning you, don’t play games with me!”  
  
“Because!” He had pouted and crossed his arms.  
  
“Because of what? Why are you acting like a spoiled little child?!”  
  
“Spoiled? Spoiled! Am I the jealous sort?”  
  
“Sometimes I think you’re not jealous enough!” Seriously, he was disappointed when men _didn’t_ wolf-whistle at her.  
  
“Are you my wife?”  
  
“What? Of course, you idiot!” Where the hell had this been going?  
  
“Am I your husband?”  
  
“Yes! Get to the point, Souji!” She had been blindingly furious at this point.  
  
He had started to blush. “Well, can’t a husband have one part of his wife all to himself? Is it too much to ask for?”  
  
That had been unexpected. “Wh-What?”  
  
“Can’t I have a part of you all to myself?” he had said softly, eyes downcast.  
  
She had melted and gently cradled his face in her hands so their eyes could meet. “If you apologize for being so snippy with me, you can have all of me, I’m yours. I’ll never sleep with another man ever again.”  
  
“I... I’m sorry, Yukiko.” He hugged her tightly. “And I didn’t mean for you to stop, you can fuck all the men you like, it’s fine with me.”  
  
“Then... what? What do you want, Souji? I’ll give you anything you want.”  
  
“What I want all to myself are your delicious... *kiss*... delectable... *kiss*... divine... *kiss*... pouty... *kiss*... velvety... *kiss*... exquisite... *kiss*... perfect... *kiss*... lips.” He finished with a kiss that left them both panting for air minutes later.  
  
“Mmmmm.” She looked at him seductively. “If that’s how you’ll pay, of course you can have my lips... and I’ll give you my heart for free.”  
  
When they finally got around to eating breakfast, their meal had become unpalatably cold.  
  
Of course, some guests would always succeed in stealing a kiss, but Souji understood she never volunteered to give away _his_ part of her. She had become quite deft at redirecting her guests’ attentions to her neck, or collarbone, or breasts. He admitted that he still was jealous whenever their guests did find her lips, but they never quarreled about it again (and she had been pleased that Souji was still human).  
  
She hoped Souji wouldn’t be too mad as she greedily devoured James’s tongue.  
  
\---  
  
James’s hands slid across the warm red silk that enveloped her, searching for a way to reveal the body within.  
  
She guided one of his hands to loosen the collar of her _kimono_ , exposing a tantalizing collarbone, but no more. The hint of pale skin was irresistible and he took the bait, shifting his kisses from her mouth, down her long, slender neck, and lingered on her shapely clavicle.  
  
A hot blush bloomed across her cheeks as James gently fondled her breasts through the luxurious silk, his nimble fingers easily finding and teasing her hard nipples under the supple fabric. Against her thigh, his erection was just as obvious under the thin cotton of his sleeping _yukata_.  
  
Slipping a hand under James’s chin, which had still been nuzzling against her collarbone, she lifted his head so that she could look into those big blue eyes.  
  
“Would you like to undress me, James?”  
  
James gulped and nodded silently.  
  
She smiled; that was the response she was looking for. She stood and beckoned him to rise as well, the two of them having embraced before while laying on the large futon in the center of the room.  
  
“Hmm, I think the guest should go first, don’t you?” she asked mischievously, with a finger on her lips.  
  
James instantaneously shed his _yukata_ and boxer briefs, before she could even reach out to do it for him. A shame, really, but she took the opportunity to take in all of James’s sleek body, all lean muscle and smooth skin and throbbing hardness.  
  
Turning so that her back faced him, she asked, “James, could you help me, please? Pull here...”  
  
She pointed to a loose end of the _obi_ , which James eagerly tugged at. The elaborate knot fell apart immediately in one motion, Souji having been considerate enough to only loosely bind his wife.  
  
Still with her back to him, she allowed the _kimono_ to slide off her shoulders and fall to the ground, giving James an unobstructed view of her flawless back, her callipygian curves, and her shapely legs. When she felt that he had seen enough, she loosened her hair from the elegant chignon that she usually wore as manager of the Inn, allowing black silk to cascade down her creamy skin.  
  
Where her bare collarbone had whetted James’s appetite, the sight of her whole body in its natural splendor had inflamed it. After she had led them back to lay on the futon, he slowly and surely kissed her everywhere, savoring the feast of flesh. When his mouth lingered at her navel, she spread her legs for him invitingly.  
  
His pleading eyes peered upwards to hers, past the smooth plain of her belly and through the gentle valley between her breasts.  
  
“M-May I?”  
  
“Of course, James... for tonight, my body is yours to enjoy...”  
  
 _“I-I-Itadakimasu...”_  
  
She giggled a little because of his good manners and moaned a lot because of his talented tongue, which carefully caressed her taut wet entrance and tenderly teased her hard pink nub. In the back of her mind, she agreed with her husband: James had an admirably adventurous palate, one that led him to lick and lick without hesitation until his senses were filled with her taste and scent, and until her back arched as pleasure radiated from between her legs.  
  
As she caught her breath, James came up, stroked her hair, and stole another kiss from her mouth; she could taste herself on his lips, just as she did every time her husband finished his favorite meal (as he sometimes whimsically liked to call it, “locally-raised, organic, free-range _japonaise chatte au jus à l’Amagi_ ”).  
  
James gasped when she expertly guided him inside of her, surrounding him tightly with her burning heat. He was too stunned by the sudden sensation to move at first. When he realized what had happened, he tried to pull out, only to find himself locked against his host by her strong legs wrapped around his waist.  
  
“Y-Yukiko, shouldn’t I--”  
  
“I want to feel you inside me, James, only you,” she whispered.  
  
Seeing that her considerate guest was still conflicted about proceeding, she gently rocked her hips against his, giving him a taste of the evening’s full pleasure. At long last, James threw caution to the wind and began to thrust in and out of her, slowly and surely.  
  
As both their breaths became ragged, she released her legs’ hold on him and spread them out wide, beckoning her guest to drive deeper and deeper, harder and harder, faster and faster. Even better than the sublime waves of bliss that swelled and washed over her with every stroke was the way James’s half-closed eyes sparkled and flashed as he lost himself to her; she could imagine just how wide her husband’s eyes were at that moment.  
  
Through the haze of her own orgasm, she could tell he was close when he shut his eyes and threw back his head. She wanted to feel him fill her with his seed, so she encircled her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, drawing him in even closer.  
  
“Come inside me!”  
  
James gasped and shuddered when she rhythmically clenched even tighter around him, forcefully milking him as she loved to do with Souji when she was on top (her husband always marveled at her unusual strength; where some women played with their hair as a nervous habit, she did Kegels constantly).  
  
He collapsed against her, spent. Savoring the afterglow, she purred.  
  
“Mmmmm. More, James, give me more...” She ran a hand through his hair and gently stroked his bottom with the other. “We have the whole night, just the two of us...”  
  
“You are so amazingly beautiful, Yukiko,” James whispered and kissed her neck, “And so generous.”  
  
He sat up and turned his head towards the closet.  
  
“Souji-san, your wife is too much woman for me. Why don’t you come out and give me a hand?”  
  
\---  
  
The Inn sold tasteful merchandise, mementos of a pleasant stay in Inaba: _Ema_ from the shrine, lacquered folding hand-fans, silk bookmarks from Tatsumi Textiles, homemade _umeshu_ from Konishi Liquors, Souji’s new cookbook ( _Secrets of the Amagi Inn_ , ¥5200, hardcover, 315pp., available in both Japanese and English), and other trinkets.  
  
James elected to buy two red bookmarks just before he checked out.  
  
Once, as she had laid in bed after a very satisfying night of passionate lovemaking with Souji after a very satisfying evening of vigorous fucking with a guest, Souji had suggested that they should start selling T-shirts saying, “I had sex with the owner of the Amagi Inn while her husband watched and all I got was this T-shirt.”  
  
She had started to hit him viciously in the face with her pillow, but soon all her strength had evaporated as she dissolved into a heap of giggles.  
  
“Snrk... What hahahaha would Kanji-kun think ahahahaha if I asked him hahahahaha for a dozen shirts? Hahahaha!”  
  
“A dozen?” Souji had asked with a pleased, knowing smile. “Don’t you mean a gross?”  
  
She had hit him again, hard.  
  
\---  
  
The sick thing had been that Souji’s estimate had been too conservative.  
  
Doing a little math, she could confidently say that, over the 15 years that she had been sexually active, she had had at least 215 distinct sexual partners (202 men, 13 women), not counting Souji (who would never, ever just be a number to her). And there probably were at least a dozen (maybe dozens?) more men that she simply didn’t remember.  
  
Many of those encounters had happened at university or while he was abroad, when she was younger, lonelier, hornier (if that were possible), less busy, and more willing to take risks. For example, she hadn’t been able to indulge in an honest-to-goodness gangbang since Souji organized a delightfully debauched one for her at a posh, exclusive sex club during their honeymoon in Paris (a day-long extravaganza of orgiastic pleasure that left her worried that she’d never be able to close her legs, sit down, or taste anything other than cum ever again). Sure, she had had many threesomes and foursomes since, but to her, it wasn’t a gangbang unless the men outnumbered her holes (which was most definitely the case in Paris, by ten to one, not counting Souji or the pair of girls that had tongue-bathed her whole body after the men had finished showering her with cum).  
  
Taking that into consideration, Souji had probably only been present to witness her fuck just over 100 strangers, and of those, only 26 had been actual guests of the Inn.  
  
That... That had still been a lot.  
  
In her wildest dreams as a teenager, she had thought that The Number would be, like, one. Or two. Certainly not more than the fingers on one hand.  
  
In contrast, she knew for a fact that Souji’s Number was a paltry four (and she had been present at all of them):

  * First and foremost and forever was her, obviously.
  * Second had been Hitomi (the bitch!).
  * Third had been the sweet Irish girl who had been their tour guide at the Louvre during their honeymoon (Siobhan-chan had been doing graduate study in art history at the Sorbonne, and had caught Souji’s eye with -- surprise, surprise -- her slim figure, porcelain pale skin, silky dark hair that fell past her shoulders, and striking hazel eyes; even so, Yukiko had to wrangle Souji into fucking the girl by turning it into a surprise threesome).
  * Fourth had been that wonderfully aggressive saucier visiting from a three-Michelin-starred Californian restaurant just last year, who had wanted more than just shop-talk and an autographed cookbook from Souji (finally! a hot blonde girl with big tits!)



She really didn’t want to think about how many times she had had sex, considering that she and Souji alone had had sex at least once almost every single day of their nearly eight years of marriage (usually twice a day -- a quick “good morning" fuck after waking and long, passionate love-making before sleeping -- and Souji licked her out in her office before lunch more often than not, which always put her in a good mood for the afternoon), regardless of whether she was entertaining guests or enjoying her sport.  
  
They even made love when they were mad at each other (especially when they were mad at each other!), when one of them was sick (orgasms are the best medicine), or when she had a headache (much better than aspirin). And they hadn’t exactly been idle before tying the knot.  
  
“Do you ever regret marrying a dirty, filthy, disgusting slut like me?” she had asked him later that night as they stripped naked (they couldn’t bear to let clothes separate them as they slept), set out their futon, and settled into bed, after she disclosed her calculations to him.  
  
He had pulled her in close, embraced her tightly, and kissed her forehead. “My dear, beautiful, sweet Yukiko. I have no regrets about marrying such a gorgeous, benevolent, generous sex goddess.”  
  
“Souji...” She had nestled her head under his chin and sighed contentedly. “If we have a son, I hope that he’s as perfect and understanding as you.”  
  
“Mmmm...” Souji blushed.  
  
Suddenly, he had rolled away from his wife so that he laid on his back, crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and furrowed his brow. With exaggerated seriousness and a barely contained smile, he had said gruffly, “If we have a daughter, I hope she’s not a dirty slut like you.”  
  
She had hit him with her pillow furiously, until the giggles overtook her.  
  
Then she had roughly climbed on top of him, pinned his arms over his head, and leant down to whisper huskily in his ear.  
  
“Are you sure you want to talk to a goddess that way? There will be punishment, mortal...”  
  
Souji had writhed and moaned under her as she savagely bit his pale neck and forcefully sucked until she ran out of breath. As she had come up for air, she got a good look at her handiwork, an enormous aubergine oval with two neat arcs of dark pink dents. Nice, but there had still been work to be done.  
  
One lovebite had quickly turned into two, then three, then a baker’s dozen all over Souji’s neck and chest and arms.  
  
She had laughed when she stopped into the kitchen in the morning, finding Souji on the receiving end of his crew’s good-natured ribbing _(“Someone try to break in last night, boss?” -- “I’d hate to see the other guy, boss!” -- “That color looks good on you, boss, really brings out your eyes!” -- “Boss, should we call the cops?” -- “Hey boss, lose another argument with the wife?” -- “Were you teasing Yukiko-neesan again, Big Bro?”)_.  
  
The cooks had even tried to make Souji pose for photos and videos, but he had managed to bring his rowdy crew under control with a mix of empty promises and idle threats.  
  
Let that be a lesson to him, for provoking a goddess.  
  
\---  
  
She had started to record videos of her trysts early on, mostly so that Souji could see what (and who) she was doing while he was away in Kyoto and Paris.  
  
She had been embarrassed at first. Not only had she been cheating on Souji (albeit at his eager insistence), but now there was explicit, pornographic evidence of the fact. And besides, she had always been camera shy.  
  
Initially, she had simply mailed memory cards to him without watching the contents beforehand. (She could have saved on international shipping had she transferred the videos to him with one of the various file-sharing services, but she was paranoid that somehow the _Yukiko Does Japan_ series would become public and ruin everything.)  
  
Under his steady encouragement, she had finally gathered the courage to watch the videos with him when he had returned from Kyoto after their second year at university was over. Any hesitation she had about recording her trysts vanished as she had devoured video after video, until the morning had given way to evening. The evening then had given way to morning as she rode Souji for hours, exhausted his tongue, cramped his hands, and left him begging for mercy, the videos having stoked her arousal to incendiary heights.  
  
She still felt a little guilty about the videos, but mostly because she felt that she was being narcissistic: She thought that Yukiko Amagi was a smoking hot porn star.  
  
Now she knew, at least a little, why Souji not just encouraged her infidelity, but was eager to witness every tryst. It would take a robot to not be aroused by watching her fuck. She had masturbated every chance she could for a month to her own pornography, whenever she wasn’t fucking Souji, which had been often.  
  
The first set-ups had been very simple, just smartphones hidden in bookshelves and potted plants whenever possible. That was still how they did it when traveling away from the Inn, but her old bedroom was now quite a studio.  
  
Her childhood bedroom in the manager’s suite was the preferred setting to entertain guests. It was smaller and more intimate than the master bedroom, and she didn’t feel right inviting a guest to share Souji’s and her actual marriage bed. That was for husband and wife alone.  
  
Souji himself had installed half a dozen tiny high-definition cameras in strategic locations to get the best coverage of her fucking. Nowadays, she played it up for the cameras, making sure to face the nearest one as she came. Souji loved seeing her orgasm face, considering it the highlight of every video.  
  
He had also gotten quite good at video editing. The finished films he produced nowadays were, in her opinion, much better than anything they could find on the internet (though she did envy those girls who tried to break gangbang records with hundreds of men). Souji’s smut could get her wet pretty much instantly.  
  
She really hoped that Naoto-kun didn’t think too hard about why Souji had asked for her advice about easily-hidable high-definition color surveillance cameras. His excuse of being worried about prowlers in sleepy, quiet, law-abiding Inaba was shaky, at best.  
  
Of all their friends, she was almost certain that Naoto-kun knew about their bizarre bedroom antics (she was too observant to turn a blind eye to the fact that the Amagi Inn had a significantly higher incidence of repeat international business by men compared to other ryokan in the area), but was too polite to bring it up in conversation.  
  
It might also have been a case of the pot trying to avoid calling the kettle black, because Yukiko knew that Naoto-kun and her girlfriend were pretty kinky, too. She never thought that Naoto-kun would be the type to enjoy sex outdoors with Tsumugi-san in the hot springs (strictly against the rules, but Yukiko made an exception for her close friend), but it always was the quiet ones, wasn’t it?  
  
She was sad that her parents had decided to move out of the Inn to a small, comfortable house in the neighborhood where most of the staff lived, about five minutes walk away (they had said that, as the owner, she deserved to have the whole manager’s suite to herself; and besides, they were too professional to permanently occupy a room at the Inn that could be used to entertain paying customers), but she took comfort in the fact that she wasn’t cheating on her husband and making pornographic videos under the same roof where her parents lived.  
  
The Inn had been a golden cage for her once, but she now reveled in the freedom that it gave her.  
  
\---  
  
Though they often watched the whole catalogue of videos together, they each had different favorites.  
  
His favorite was her first (but far from last) gangbang, back in her third and final year of university, on the first day of the second term. While she quite liked remembering that invigorating night of animalistic fucking with her harem boys, she didn’t think the video was anything special; the lighting was bad and her boys had crowded too tightly all around her, so you really couldn’t see what was going on very well beyond a pulsating mass of flesh.  
  
In her opinion, the only saving grace of that video had been after all her boys left, when she bent over and stretched open her pussy and ass to give the camera (and Souji) a close-up shot of half a dozen boys’ worth of cum slowly oozing out of her tender pink holes.  
  
She much preferred the video from the time she invited that cute American Air Force lieutenant up to the suite (followed right behind by the video of Souji getting topped hard by Jessie-chan and her big tits). The poor dear was fresh out of the Academy and on her first overseas tour in a country she knew next to nothing about (“Leave it to the desk jockeys to send a Farsi language specialist to Japan,” she said).  
  
Emily-chan had decided on spending a long weekend at the Amagi Inn for her first leave purely on a whim, and she intrigued Yukiko because the two of them were so different:

  * Whereas Yukiko had been the result of generations of careful breeding to be the ideal _yamato nadeshiko_ , Emily was a self-described mutt who could trace her ancestors back to a dozen different countries on three different continents;
  * Whereas Yukiko was reserved and the very model of ladylike behavior (at least in public), Emily was outgoing and pleasingly brash (and quite bashful in private);
  * Whereas Yukiko had spent nearly all her life in the same small Japanese town, Emily had been an Air Force brat, following her father’s deployments all around the world (mostly around America and Europe);
  * Whereas Yukiko was a classic black and white beauty, Emily-chan was a study in browns: raw sugar skin, dark caramel eyes, molasses hair.



Emily-chan had never been with a woman before, though she had been fairly certain that she was a lesbian. Even though the American military had allowed homosexuals to serve openly since 2014, military families were usually traditional by default, so she had never had the courage to experiment.  
  
Yukiko could sympathize. Their ordeal in the TV world had brought them as close as two friends could be, but she and Chie never could muster up the courage to explore the obvious affection that would have let them be closer than friends. Now that the two of them were both happily married -- and since Chie was so faithful to Kou-san -- that opportunity seemed forever lost.  
  
Not until university had Yukiko been able to pursue intimacy with another woman (Haruka-senpai had been one of her favorite teaching assistants in the English department), to satisfy her curiosity. The first few times had been rather awkward and not wholly satisfying, but she was proud of herself for trying. She gave Emily-chan the benefit of her own hard-learned lessons, and the night of passion that ensued made for an excellent repeat viewing.  
  
The lighting and video quality were so much better because it had been shot at the Inn. You could see all the fine gradations of blushing on Emily-chan’s face as she moved from embarrassment to arousal to eye-crossing bliss, as Yukiko moved from petting to kissing to kissing ever lower.  
  
Emily-chan was a very considerate guest and a quite fast learner. She listened attentively to Yukiko as they reversed roles, and Emily-chan seemed quite proud of herself when her host screamed out her name in the throes of ecstasy.  
  
They passed a long while together...  
  
In Yukiko’s opinion, the money shot was the sight of Emily-chan’s face as she slept in Yukiko’s arms, their legs comfortably tangled together, Emily-chan’s cheek resting on Yukiko’s gently heaving breast: Her guest had been beatifically content.  
  
As had she.


	4. Chapter 4

Souji, ever the psychologist, once told her on a leisurely Sunday evening stroll along the Samegawa during the off-season his theory on why he found being cuckolded so arousing (during which he spent nearly half an hour feeding some cats; he used to feed them scraps at the Inn, but she didn’t want the strays bothering the guests).  
  
He surmised that he felt proud to know that he was married to such an obviously attractive woman; hundreds of satisfied men and women couldn’t be wrong, right? And he was even prouder to know that, even with all the stiff competition, she always chose him in the end.  
  
The competition was partly what attracted him to her in the first place, as terrible as that sounded. He had wanted to understand what all the fuss was about the Amagi Challenge. When he realized what was at stake, he threw himself into the fray with reckless abandon.  
  
And the competition had been good, was good, it motivated him to be the best possible boyfriend and fiancé and husband for her, to ensure that he was worthy of her precious love.  
  
It was why he never missed his regular workouts (daily jogs around Inaba with Chie; thrice-weekly weightlifting; the occasional pick-up game of basketball with Kou and the guys on weekends), why he worked so hard in the kitchen to try to earn the Inn its third star, and why he always used every last ounce of energy in bed to make sure she was absolutely satisfied.  
  
He felt that if he didn’t try hard enough, a goddess like her could easily find some more worthy mortal to worship her(ever since he first stepped foot in Inaba, he unconsciously felt compelled to organize his life around the whims of a goddess; fortunately, he married one that was a lot less manipulative and lot more attractive than the one that introduced him to town).  
  
The competition was invigorating and he really thought it made their relationship stronger, a sort of perpetual trial by fire that they always passed unscathed.  
  
He knew she had appetites that he couldn’t truly satiate by himself, but he never begrudged her for it (and, in fact, he was aroused by it); her passion was simply was an aspect of the Yukiko Amagi he loved whole-heartedly, just like her intelligence, her empathy, her determination, and her weird sense of humor. She always looked so happy after sex, and he loved to see her happy, and he would do anything to make sure she was happy.  
  
While he appreciated the fact that she reciprocated his trust in her and occasionally encouraged him to sleep around too, to have a little of his own fun (so long as it wasn’t with that bitch Hitomi), he didn’t need any other women. Even when they didn’t have anything to talk about and just sat together in comfortable silence (like when he dozed off to an episode of Yosuke’s new show after work and rested his head on her lap, while she pored over the payroll with one hand and stroked his hair with the other), it was everything he dreamt about as a kid, a kid whose parents moved him around Japan every year. He loved being settled with his one beautiful wife in his one little town.  
  
All that mattered to him was that she had some love for him. If her generous heart had room for others, that was fine. Just so long as he had a place.  
  
She told him he was forever first and only in her heart.  
  
\---  
  
When they had returned to the Inn, she revealed to him the not-unexpected admission that she found cheating to be uniquely exhilarating. No matter how many times she did it, no matter how routine it may have seemed, each man was a whole new experience that she relished.  
  
And it wasn’t exhilarating simply because it was a new man (or men) every time. The excitement came from the titillating knowledge that Souji was watching, that she was simultaneously wronging and arousing him. Even if the man (or men) in her arms (and mouth and pussy and ass) only thought of her as an easy lay, hidden in the darkness were her husband’s eyes, filled with love.  
  
She would never be able to be totally free of guilt (guilt being some sort of load-bearing structure of her psyche), but her guilt stemmed from the fact that she ultimately didn’t find Souji to be satisfying enough by himself, as she felt she should.  
  
It wasn’t his fault. He was still the only man who could single-handedly get her to literally pass out from orgasming too hard, who knew and cherished every last feature and flaw of her body and soul, but her sexual appetite was so shamefully insatiable that one man, no matter how perfect, just wasn’t enough (and multiple penetration just wasn’t the same without real cocks).  
  
She loved him intensely for having such saintly understanding, for not being a possessive brute who caged her up. However, she knew that it was fully reasonable that he had the right to ask his wife to be faithful (after all, she had come to expect him to be faithful, even if she did tell him to get a little side action). If he asked, seriously asked, she would find a way to silence her tawdry desires.  
  
But she admitted that she was glad he never did ask and that he enjoyed her behavior as much as she did.  
  
She felt comforted by the knowledge that Souji’s love for her was as unconditional as could be possible for a human. No matter how far she fell; no matter how degraded, defiled, debased she became; no matter how many meters of other men’s cocks had impaled her or how many liters of other men’s cum had saturated her: Her Souji would always take her in his arms, kiss her deeply, and plunge himself fully into her so that they could be one for a while.  
  
Maybe she was looking for the effusive affection that she felt her parents never gave her; maybe she was overcompensating for her undersexed formative years; maybe she was still looking for freedom, in all the wrong ways; maybe she just was a filthy, dirty slut by nature who lived only to score with hot studs.  
  
Whatever the underlying reasons might have been, she never felt wrong enough to stop.  
  
And though she hated how vain and petty and self-aggrandizing it made her sound, she really did enjoy the notion that she was a legitimate sex goddess, a woman so attractive that handsome men would come from all over the world to sleepy Inaba, just to fuck her one more time (she and the Inn appreciated the repeat business).  
  
Best of all, she felt powerful knowing that she had Souji -- expressive, courageous, diligent, understanding, knowledgeable Souji; handsome, charming, funny Souji (who could instantly have any woman, and many men, he looked at in bed with him); trophy husband Souji (she saw how they all looked at him in Inaba and Kyoto and Paris) -- effortlessly wrapped around her little finger, just where he belonged.  
  
He told her that was right where he wanted to be.  
  
\---  
  
That night with James, her last guest, Souji belonged at her side.  
  
“I... I guess the game is up, darling. Please come out and help our guest.” She looked James in the eyes with amusement in her own. “How did you know?”  
  
He grinned sheepishly. “I, uh... I guessed. I heard something bump around in the closet.”  
  
She couldn’t help but ruin the mood a little by giggling as her handsome, naked husband drew back the sliding door of the closet and tried to amble out nonchalantly, seemingly unembarrassed by his straining erection bobbing rhythmically with each footstep. She rose to embrace him as they stood in front of James.  
  
“G-Good evening, James-san. I, uh... We, uh...”  
  
She had never seen Souji so flustered.  
  
“We’re very touched that you would like my husband to join us,” she continued smoothly for him. “You see, I had wanted you to have this little parting gift of mine all to yourself. I do hope that you’ll finish the night with us.”  
  
It was James’s turn to blush. “Um, yes, thank you, I’d, uh, I’d really like that...”  
  
She beamed from ear to ear. Her last tryst was becoming as memorable as she had hoped.  
  
Souji only very rarely joined in with the strangers she fucked (and only when she asked), because he preferred to watch and make love to her afterwards. He liked to watch her have the time of her life; he would be too distracted if he were actually inside her at the same time.  
  
Besides, he liked having her all to himself during the act of intimacy. At first, she was disappointed that Souji didn’t want to join in with the others, but she later grew to agree with him, because he was more than just a cock to her; she wanted to be able to focus on him whenever they made love.  
  
But, sensing that his wife wanted him by her side during her last tryst, he made an exception for their last guest.  
  
Souji wrapped his arms possessively around her narrow waist before she drew the two of them back down onto the futon. He laid on his back and his wife climbed on top, slowly sinking down until he was entirely within her pussy, filled with another man’s cum. She guided his hands to her bottom; without words, he understood what his wife wanted.  
  
James’s cock sprang back to life when he saw Souji spread open his wife’s cheeks to expose her dark pink pucker.  
  
As her guest stood speechless and uncertain, she turned her head back coquettishly.  
  
“James, would you like to fuck my ass?”  
  
\---  
  
If she had her druthers, sex would always involve at least three men at a time.  
  
The sensation of having all her holes stuffed with cock was indescribably fulfilling, so she often fondly reminisced on her third and last year of university, when gangbangs had been a regular treat.  
  
Her second year’s final term had been terribly exciting, having gone through a new man every few nights (she would fuck the same guy a few times, then move on). However, by the end of that year, the effort of finding suitable men for her “one-night” stands was beginning to wear on her, being far too time-consuming for her taste (she felt that she might have gone overboard during her second year at university, simply because of the novelty of cheating; she had never been quite so promiscuous since).  
  
Her third year had been coming up and she had needed to make sure she had time for studies. Not that she had had much of a social life -- a real social life with friends, that is. Of course, she had made some very nice friends her first year and had hung out with them like a normal person, but that had been the exception to the rule.  
  
A typical day during second year had begun with masturbation with her vibrator, then lectures, then lunch, then more lectures, then homework, then dinner, then fucking a total stranger, then telling her boyfriend about said fucking over the phone, then some more homework, then some late-night gossiping with Chie over the phone, then masturbation in the bath, then sleep.  
  
One-night stands had also lost their luster for her because she had had a pair of threesomes that had gotten a little rougher than she liked (she never told Souji about those, because she was certain that, even now, he would hunt those guys down and try his old _katana_ or new _sashimi_ knives on them). Fortunately, she had easily been able to handle those impolite boys (nothing like a little extra teeth to get a guy’s attention), but those incidents had given her pause.  
  
Finally, she had grown tired of condoms. She had missed the feel of skin on skin, but she didn’t dare risk catching a bug from her one-night stands (she trusted the Pill for birth control, but that was all it could do). She would never forgive herself if she hurt Souji, with whom she couldn’t bear to be separated by latex.  
  
During the spring break before her third and final year, she devised a plan to assemble a special harem of boys that would obey her every debauched whim (looking back, she could never believe that she had the audacity to actually go through with it, but -- in her defense -- she had been _really_ horny that stressful year).  
  
She took a short-term job in Tokyo as a cram school English tutor under a false name (Noriko Kashiwagi, her usual alias) during the spring break, to identify harem candidates from amongst her students. Partly out of practicality and partly out of a soft spot she still had for Aoi-kun, she chose cute, shy, obedient, skinny young boys to corrupt.  
  
That all but three of the boys she picked were virgins had been a shock (she fucked more in a week than those three had in their combined lives, and most of the others had never even gone up to bat, much less gotten to first base), but a pleasant surprise (bye-bye, condoms!). Didn’t teenagers in the city have sex?  
  
Honestly, she thought she and Souji were behind schedule when they deflowered each other in the second year of high school (was that why her parents had practically kicked her out of the Inn that Christmas Eve?). Most of her classmates from Inaba had rounded the bases in middle school. Hell, even Yosuke had gotten lucky before their third year (or so he said; Ai-san had always hotly denied it).  
  
In any case, she had enjoyed the extracurricular tutoring to address her boys’ inexperience during the first term.  
  
She had started slowly, for their benefit and hers. Though she had become quite comfortable with casual, meaningless sex behind Souji’s back, she had never been with more than three men at a time. And certainly, the boys had to be teased out of their shells one-on-one before they would even think about a gangbang.  
  
They were good students in and out of the bedroom, though, and by the first day of the second term, she had been able to invite six of her best pupils to fuck her silly.  
  
She had kept her plan secret from Souji, which had had the desired effect when she sent the first batch of videos to him. When he had called her that night, she could tell that he was foaming at the mouth with excitement.  
  
Souji had marveled at her organizational and leadership abilities; combined with her sexual prowess (and amazingly sexy way she had used her old TV World glasses to complete her naughty teacher ensemble), it was a lethal combination, he had said. Then he had her give him running commentary over the phone as he watched the video again and again, rubbing himself raw.  
  
\---  
  
After a month, six boys had become nine, every Sunday. By the time the third term had rolled around, a dozen at a time, twice a week had been the norm.  
  
She had barely been able to walk straight during the diploma ceremony, because she had invited all twenty of her boys to a glorious celebration the day before her graduation (this was Souji’s second favorite video, despite the fact that you _really_ couldn’t see anything until the end, when her exhausted boys staggered out of the room to reveal a limp, cum-soaked, deliriously happy slut).  
  
She hadn’t had the heart to tell them that that was their last time together, but her boys had realized it nonetheless. They had outdone themselves to give her a send-off that she’d never forget.  
  
They had competed with each other to see who had been the best linguist, crowding all around her to deeply kiss her mouth and suck her nipples and lick her pussy and probe her anus, over and over again. She had given them all perfect marks, impressed by their command of the tongue.  
  
Her boys had then passed her around, all of them wanting to be her last lover, the one that she might remember. Round and round she went, until she hadn’t known her head from her ass. Not that it really had mattered, since her boys had been vigorously fucking all her holes at once, just as she had taught them to. As soon as one boy had pulled out of a cum-filled hole, another had taken his place, so she had been deliciously full without interruption.  
  
The tiny little room in the love-hotel could barely fit all of them as they had licked and sucked and fondled and teased and filled and fucked her for hours on end, every boy returning to her for seconds and thirds and fourths.  
  
She had fallen into a regular routine of fucking at various love-hotels since her second year, having felt that it was too dangerous to bring men back to her little apartment. After the journalism student, she had decided that she shouldn’t fuck classmates because the risk of exposure was too high. She would give false names to the various one-night stands she had picked up from other Tokyo-area universities and had taken to the love-hotels.  
  
Her harem of boys had required a slightly different approach, as most love-hotels didn’t allow more than one man and one woman to a room (though most would turn a blind eye to one extra participant). It had been surprisingly hard to find one of the few remaining non-automated hotels in Tokyo, where she had been able to sweet-talk the proprietor, a world-weary little old lady, to make an exception.  
  
It hadn’t been cheap, since the old lady charged her per boy (she eventually just charged Yukiko three times the usual room rate, having seen just _how_ frequent a customer she was; she never did waive the extra laundry fee, though), but it had been worth having a discreet base of operations.  
  
If she had asked, she had been sure her boys would have paid for their share or even more, but she hadn’t wanted their money. After all, she was a slut, not a whore.  
  
She had laid down rules which her boys had obeyed without failure or complaint (she had told them that if any one of them ever broken any one of the rules, she’d never fuck any of them ever again).

  * First, tell no one.
  * Second, seriously, tell no one.
  * Third, “no” means “no.”
  * Fourth, stay clean.
  * Fifth, she didn’t care what you did on your own time, but be ready to go at least two rounds when she called.
  * Sixth, don’t call her, she’ll call you.
  * Seventh, be on time.
  * Eighth, hand over your phones and clothes (which she locked in a suitcase that she brought with her), because there will be no sex tapes (besides her own, of course).
  * Ninth, after anal, wash your dick before sticking it in again.
  * Tenth, no names; she’ll call you by number, and if you must, address her as “Slut” (though her boys had all been far too polite, so they called her, incongruously, “Slut-sama”).
  * Eleventh, it was over only when she said it was over.
  * Twelfth, and most importantly, there would be no talk of love: She wasn’t their girlfriend, they weren’t her boyfriends, they were just her harem boys.



They all loved her anyway, which broke her heart a little when she had to abandon them.  
  
\---  
  
Sandwiched as she was between Souji and James, she felt quite satisfied with just two.  
  
James started quite slowly, deathly afraid that he might hurt his host, but her hands had eagerly guided his slippery, cum-slicked cock to her waiting tightness. He pushed his way forwards as gently as he could, savoring an experience that was wholly new to him.  
  
She, on the other hand, was enjoying a familiar delightful fullness. When James’s hairs tickled her cheeks, still spread wide by her husband’s hands, she shivered.  
  
“D-Does it hurt, Yukiko?”  
  
“It feels _amazing,_ James. Please, don’t be shy.”  
  
She guided James’s hands to either side of her hips, where they would have the best grip to help him pound her the way she wanted. Souji’s hands automatically slid from her bottom, up the sides of her waist, and then gently cupped her breasts and expertly teased her nipples, as they had done so many times before.  
  
Souji’s wide smile felt almost as good to her as the heat from her two lovers glowing within; he was clearly enjoying their evening as much as she was. The thin wall of sensitive flesh inside her that separated her lovers seemed as if it would melt if they continued to simply rest inside her, contentedly thrust to their hilts, motionless. An anxious charge grew within her like a gathering storm; she ached for release.  
  
“Please, James, don’t make me ask again!”  
  
Snapped out of his reverie, James obliged her. A squeal escaped her when he tightened his grip around her hips and slowly pulled out, before plunging deeply inside again. Her husband, ever the gracious host, allowed their guest to set the pace. After a half-dozen tentative strokes, James and Souji had fallen into unison, sliding in and out of her ass and pussy rhythmically.  
  
“Harder... harder... _harder_...”  
  
Souji shifted his hands from her breasts back to her smooth round ass, so that he could slam her down onto him as he drove himself up into her pussy, hard enough so that the tip of his throbbing cock kissed her cervix. James responded in kind, pulling himself nearly completely out on each stroke before lancing fully into her again, hard enough so that the slap of his hips against her ass echoed off the walls.  
  
“Yes...”  
  
In their frenzy, her lovers had lost their synchrony. Sometimes, they alternated perfectly, so that while one was buried deep within her, the other was preparing for his own next thrust. Other times, their strokes regained unity, so she was stretched to her limits before being agonizingly empty. Mostly, though, they sent her over the edge time and time again to the beat of some errant metronome.  
  
“Yes!”  
  
It had been a while since two men had fucked her so deliciously hard, yet so lovingly. She melted against her husband’s chest and surrendered herself to the procession of orgasms that seemed to continue without end, each one erupting with every thrust, each one more intense than the last, each one sending her to paradise for a little while longer.  
  
 _“Yes!”_  
  
She tried to count how many times she came, but lost track as each fading orgasm simply rolled into a fresh new one. Her husband’s face was easier to measure. When she could focus her eyes, she could tell that he was giving her his all, yet still holding back; generous Souji wanted to last as long as he could for her, intent on giving her an eternity of pleasure. Nevertheless, he was close, very close, as James must have been.  
  
Her lovers had been very, very good to her. It was time to return the favor.  
  
“Come for me!”  
  
Timing it perfectly so that they were both fully inside, she clamped down hard on her pair of lovers, squeezing the life out of them for a long instant and filling herself with twin jets of liquid heat. She dove her head down, swallowing her husband’s gasps of pleasure with her hungry mouth. Behind her emanated her guest’s long moans, some of the sweetest music she had ever heard.  
  
She quite enjoyed the encore of the soft wet noises from behind when James pulled out of her ass and fell onto his back, and from between her legs she slowly, slowly lifted herself off Souji’s cock, twisting her hips playfully as she did.  
  
As her lovers tried to regain their breaths, her hand reached down to her sodden pussy and gathered a generous helping of their mingled seed as it oozed out of her. James’s eyes and Souji’s smile widened as she languidly sucked her fingers clean and licked her lips. Delicious.  
  
And she wasn’t the only one who needed cleaning. “James, you dirty boy.”  
  
Her guest was besides himself with embarrassment, having turned a vibrant shade of red as she gingerly massaged a warm, wet washcloth (from a previously prepared box, just for this eventuality) all around his softening cock and sensitive pouch, cleaning him quite thoroughly.  
  
“Y-You don’t have to do that for me, I can--”  
  
“The Amagi Inn prides itself on excellent service. And speaking of service...” With a twinkle in her eye, she turned to her husband. “Souji, darling, could you get my vibrator?”  
  
He smiled, having a good idea of what his wife was up to. “Yes, dear.”


	5. Chapter 5

The first few months after graduation had been hard on her. Souji was still in Kyoto, finishing his fourth and final year of university (and he hadn’t been able to visit her at all during the summer break, as he was called upon to work more for his masters at the _ryokan_ in Kyoto); her boys in Tokyo were but a fond memory; and there was no way she could have a one-night stand in Inaba without it becoming common knowledge instantly.  
  
She had managed to survive those first months by willingly drowning herself in the daunting ocean of Inn-related work that she volunteered to do, on top of what her parents had assigned. The work had been a welcome distraction.  
  
Her parents had been overjoyed to have her back in Inaba, not because they would have another helping hand (though they did quite appreciate having a fluent English-speaker on staff), but because they had missed having their precious only daughter in their daily lives. And she had missed them, too.  
  
Kanji-kun and Teddie had kept her company around town, since everyone else had still been away at their respective universities and concert tours. Their familiar presence in familiar surroundings had helped quiet her urges.  
  
Though Kanji-kun had passed the entrance exams to many of the universities he had applied to, he had decided against attending, saying that he felt happiest in his shop and just couldn’t bear to leave his Ma all alone. He had also helped take care of Teddie after Yosuke left for university; Kanji-kun had given him a part-time job at Tatsumi Textiles, where Teddie discovered a knack for sales, especially to the women of Inaba (and later, after her Inn brought in more tourists, Teddie was always a hit with the foreign ladies).  
  
Things had been going quite swimmingly until her vibrator broke.  
  
\---  
  
After an agonizingly long week, she had gotten on her laptop and tracked down a small, discreet sex toy shop in Okina City that stocked her preferred, somewhat rare model, and made up an excuse to take an afternoon off (she hadn’t wanted to order anything online, since her parents or the staff might have opened the strange delivery).  
  
The shop had been as discreet as she had hoped for, purporting to merely be a bookstore in a quiet residential area, between a _ramen_ restaurant (they had a very tasty _shio ramen_ ) and an actual bookstore (she was picking up her specially ordered French-language printing of _Le Guide Culinaire_ to give as a birthday present to Souji, and to serve as the excuse for her day off).  
  
Still, she had worn a wide-brimmed hat and large sunglasses on that cloudy day.  
  
She had thought about leaving the empty store as soon as she walked in and met the intimidating gaze of the bored-looking shopkeeper: A tall, willowy girl in her late-twenties with legs that went on forever, an effect she accentuated by wearing a tiny pleated skirt (which barely covered her curiously immature strawberry-print panties) and sky-high heels (she’d later tell Yukiko that she liked to tower over her men, and, at 172 centimeters in bare feet, tower she did).  
  
The shopkeeper had been bent over, re-stocking a shelf of novelty flavored condoms.  
  
The idea of going another restless night without her “comfort blanket” strengthened Yukiko’s resolve. “Uh, um, excuse me, do you have... vibrators?”  
  
The shopkeeper jerked her head to indicate a wall lined with vibrators and dildos near the back of the store, and went back to re-stocking.  
  
After a few minutes of fascinated browsing, Yukiko had found her trusty model: A top-shelf vibrating dildo, fully 25 centimeters long with proportionally impressive girth and strategically placed ridges; the heavy, gently curved stainless-steel shell enclosed a pair of exceptionally powerful motors (one at the tip, the other at the base) with 11 intensity settings and a rechargeable battery rated at 2 hours of continuous use at the highest setting.  
  
It was large enough that she had to warm herself up with her fingers before she was relaxed and wet enough to slowly slide it in, centimeter by centimeter, until she felt a heavenly fullness that no man could ever give her (she was somewhat disappointed that she could never fit the entire metal beast inside her, but also somewhat relieved that she wasn’t _that_ loose). And in the odd event that she wasn’t horny, it also made an excellent back massager.  
  
If the intimidating size and power of the vibrator wasn’t enough the scare most women off, the premium price tag did, but she thought it was worth every yen.  
  
The shopkeeper eyed Yukiko up and down skeptically when Yukiko brought her prize to the counter for checkout and pulled out a neat wad of cash. “You sure that’s the right one for you, princess?”  
  
“Why, is there a more powerful one?”  
  
An intrigued eyebrow shot up on the shopkeeper’s face. “No, that’s the best model we’ve got in the shop. Between us, that one’s my favorite, but it’s a lot of cock for a little girl like you, you know? You sure it’s gonna fit?” She smirked. “Heh, if you want to come over to my place, I could give you a little test drive, if you know what I mean...” The shopkeeper winked lecherously at Yukiko.  
  
The shopkeeper was quite cute (in a kind of scary way), Yukiko’s parents weren’t expecting her back for a few hours, and she hadn’t felt the warmth of another body for months, so what the hell, why not? “Um, where’s your place? For the test drive?”  
  
The shopkeeper jaw dropped open, revealing that she had a tongue stud in addition to her beauty mark piercing. “Hey now, princess, I was just kidding...”  
  
“Oh,” said Yukiko disappointedly.  
  
“Wait...” The shopkeeper licked her lips, her curiosity having been piqued by the pretty young thing who was desperate for some fucking. “I _was_ just kidding, but, uh, if you want, my apartment’s just 5 minutes away. I could, uh, take a long lunch.”  
  
Keiko got in trouble with the owner of the shop for her unannounced three-hour lunch that day, but she told Yukiko that it had been worth it.  
  
“That was fucking amazing, Nori-chan. I wouldn’t have figured that a sweet little princess like you would be a demon in the sack,” Keiko purred as they laid in her bed together, having given Yukiko’s vibrator (and her own extensive personal collection of toys) a thorough test drive. “Where’d you learn how to do that thing with your tongue?”  
  
“Haha, well, I may not look it, but I’m a dirty little slut with lots of experience, Kei-chan,” Yukiko laughed, though she did feel a little guilty for telling Keiko that her name was Noriko Kashiwagi.  
  
“Yeah, right, I bet you’ve got a nice quiet boy at home who was your first and only.” Keiko snickered. “Well, before me.”  
  
Yukiko decided to tell Keiko a little bit of the truth, detailing some of her sexual exploits from university, from her second year attempt to screw all the cute university-age boys of Tokyo to her third year gangbangs with her harem boys. She did omit the one detail that Keiko had already guessed, that she had a nice quiet boy who was her first and only love.  
  
Keiko listened to Yukiko slack-jawed, uncertain whether to believe her lover’s extensive list of sexual conquests. “Holy crap, Nori-chan! I mean, I’ve done more than my fair share of sleeping around, like, a _lot_ more, but if what you’re telling me is true, _you_ are the biggest slut in Japan. Jeez, I hope I didn’t catch anything.”  
  
Yukiko smiled, pleased at having impressed a kindred spirit. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  
  
\---  
  
One day, after a few more enjoyable rendezvous over the course of a month, Keiko suddenly had asked Yukiko an embarrassing question as they were lounging around in bed.  
  
“Hey, what’s your real name?”  
  
“What? Kashiwagi Nori--”  
  
“No, the real Kashiwagi Noriko is a sad, deluded cougar who thinks high school boys are throwing themselves at her.”  
  
“H-H-How do you know?”  
  
“She came into the shop a few days ago and cleared out our supply of raspberry-flavored lube.” Keiko closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t wanna think about it, either. Anyway, she said she was from Inaba, like you. And she paid with plastic. So, unless there are two Kashiwagi Norikos from Inaba, what’s your real name?”  
  
“Um... Um, A-Amagi Yukiko.”  
  
“Yuki-chan, nice to meet you. Amagi, huh? Sounds familiar... Where have I heard it... Ah! You run that inn in Inaba?”  
  
“Y-Yes. Well, my parents do.” Yukiko started to shiver and turned her back to Keiko, so that she wouldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. Was this how everything would end? Was this how she would be exposed? Had she been too careless?  
  
Keiko had scooted up to Yukiko and started to spoon her reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Yuki-chan, your secret’s safe with me. We sluts have to stick together, you know?”  
  
“Mm-hmm,” Yukiko murmured, still embarrassed to have been discovered.  
  
“Now, Yuki-chan, since you were lying about your name and all, I gotta know: Did you really fuck all those guys like you said, or was that a lie, too? You can tell me the truth, I won’t judge you.”  
  
Yukiko had told Keiko the full, cathartic truth, confirming that she had really been a man-eating slut at university in explicit detail. This time, Yukiko also told Keiko about her and Souji’s odd relationship, and how that had factored into her shameful behavior. Keiko listened attentively in silence, before asking a few final questions.  
  
“So your boyfriend knows?”  
  
“Y-Yes.”  
  
“And he encourages you to cheat on him?”  
  
“He’s very understanding.”  
  
“And you said he likes to watch?”  
  
“Mm-hmm, it turns him on.”  
  
Keiko whistled, impressed. “Wow. I mean, I’ve met guys who say they don’t mind, but those guys turn out to be the most possessive. But if this Souji’s really as great as you make him sound... You hit the jackpot, Yuki-chan.”  
  
Yukiko blushed and smiled. “I know.”  
  
“So, your boyfriend Souji-kun... Does he like girl-on-girl videos?”  
  
\---  
  
After a pleasant afternoon together two weeks later, Keiko had Yukiko sit down at her kitchen table while she washed the double-ended strap-on that had been inside both of them half an hour earlier.  
  
“What’s wrong, Yuki-chan? You were kinda, I dunno, kinda out of it today. I mean, I only got you to come once. Am I doing something wrong?”  
  
“No, no! It’s nothing like that, Kei-chan, you were wonderful. It’s just that...”  
  
“Just that what?”  
  
“Well, you know how I told you about my... my harem boys in Tokyo?”  
  
“Yeah, don’t I! I wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t shown me those videos, which, by the way, are fucking _hot_. Seriously, Yuki-chan, I still can’t believe that a proper little princess like you could do something like that! I mean, I thought _I_ was a slut, but _you!_ ”  
  
“Hahaha, well, I did do it... _a lot_... and I kind of miss it...”  
  
Keiko had put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes for a few long moments. “Tell you what, Yuki-chan. I know you’re always busy with work and stuff, so how about I do some scouting here in Okina for both of us, and I’ll give you a call when I’ve got some nice guys to fuck our brains out?”  
  
Yukiko had lit up. “You’d do that for me, Kei-chan? I... I don’t want to be a bother--”  
  
“A bother? Ha! I’d be doing it anyway. As much as I love you, Yuki-chan, even I’m getting the urge to find some nice big cocks. It’ll be nice to have some company with you around, gangbangs get so lonely sometimes, you know? We sluts have to stick together, after all.”  
  
Yukiko got up and kissed Keiko deeply. “Mmmm. Speaking of sticking together, Kei-chan...” She grabbed the strap-on from Keiko. “Souji said he loved the last video and wanted a sequel.”  
  
\---  
  
Souji’s apprenticeship at the Tour d’Argent (which had recently been restored to three Michelin stars before his arrival) had been a point of pride, something that she bragged about to friends and family (Souji had secured the position because his old master in Kyoto had been friends with the _chef de cuisine_ at the venerable French restaurant, and had highly recommended his pupil to him).  
  
Still, as happy as she had been about his professional success, she had been desperate for him to return to Japan (as had he). She had only survived his complete absence by indulging in the monthly treats Keiko organized for her.  
  
They hadn’t been the huge gangbangs of her university days, being more intimate four- or fivesomes featuring her, Keiko, and two or three guys at Keiko’s apartment. Keiko had taken her scouting job seriously, to find guys that Yukiko would like and to keep her Yuki-chan’s secret safe.  
  
Keiko had been a godsend. Yukiko had been much more willing to take risks in Tokyo, because she was just another anonymous face amongst millions; she had never met anyone her age who had even heard of Inaba, much less visited the town, so she had felt safe (when she brought up the murder case, everyone she talked to gave a different answer for which rural town they thought it had taken place in). Okina was a different story, being so close to Inaba, so she hadn’t even thought about hunting for one-night stands there after she graduated; it simply was too risky, until Keiko provided the answer.  
  
Keiko would usually try the guys out first by herself, so that Yukiko would only have the cream of the crop. Once she had two or three that she liked, she would tell them that her slutty little sister “Noriko” would be in town to visit her soon (which wasn’t much of a stretch, since Keiko also had fair skin and black hair, though cut in a choppy bob). Would they like to meet her for a little fun? Of course, they would say yes.  
  
Though Keiko had always carefully vetted the guys, making sure that they were clean and that none were inclined to visit Inaba or the Inn, she had hit on the idea that Yukiko should be blindfolded during the fun. Not only did it make for a fairly effective disguise, the blindfold had made the fucking that much more exciting for Yukiko, since she couldn’t see what would happen next (she usually fucked with the lights on, for the cameras). She had trusted Keiko to look after her.  
  
“Nori-chan’s shy, she can’t do it if she sees someone watching,” Keiko would lie smoothly.  
  
When there were enough men to fill Yukiko completely, Keiko would just take the time to lovingly caress her “sister’s” smooth skin and fondle her sensitive breasts. When they were a man short, Keiko would don a strap-on and fill in. In either case, Keiko would take the time to lick clean Yukiko’s cum-smeared holes and share a slimy kiss afterwards, to Yukiko’s delight.  
  
Keiko had been right, gangbangs were actually quite lonely, so Yukiko was glad to have someone keep her company.  
  
\---  
  
That night with her last guest, her husband kept her company, as he had done so many times before (usually in a closet, though).  
  
He had returned from the master bedroom with one of her vibrators (in its special velvet-lined box) just in time to see her finish wiping off James’s cock. She smiled mischievously at him as he walked in.  
  
“Darling, does James look clean to you?”  
  
Catching her meaning, Souji stared intently at the boy’s crotch, causing their guest to blush even redder. “I think you may have missed a spot, dear. All the way at the back.”  
  
“I thought so.” And with that, she stuffed her guest’s cock into her mouth.  
  
While James enjoyed her lively tongue and seemingly bottomless throat, she shifted herself onto all fours and wiggled her hips, signaling to her husband that she wanted some service of her own.  
  
Without missing a beat, Souji dialed the vibrator up to 11 and carefully pushed it into her quivering pussy as far as it would go. An instant later, he pushed himself into her tight ass, slippery from James’s cum, completely filling her as he knew she loved to be. She shuddered with sublime satisfaction, with her guest’s hard cock filling her mouth, her vibrator humming away in her pussy, and her husband pounding her ass.  
  
As Souji fucked her, he also pumped the vibrator in and out, expertly simulating a third lover for his wife (she was always amazed by how Souji’s aim almost never missed when brushing the ridged tip of the vibrator right over her most sensitive spot). It was one of his favorite tricks when they had anal sex (and he also enjoyed the powerful vibrations); it never failed to get her screaming (with James in her mouth, it was more like muffled moaning).  
  
She relished the unusual treat of being triple-penetrated at the Inn (in her mind, blowing Souji while he used two vibrators to play with her didn’t count), where she usually only entertained guests one at a time (well, except for those acrobatic twin brothers from Canada).  
  
She had slowed down over the years, preferring quality to quantity, but sometimes she just need a quick, hard, animalistic fuck with two or three guys at once. When that urge couldn’t be ignored anymore, Souji and she would check into a hotel for a night in Okina (instead of love-hotels, they usually checked into a real hotel, finding the nicer accommodations and larger closets worth the extra money), comb bars and arcades for the cute, shy young boys she liked best, and indulge in her favorite hobby (she felt completely safe because she knew her husband was by her side while she had her fun).  
  
When her Souji returned to her for good after nearly two years in Paris, she had felt the hunger for sex with strangers subside (she had ridden him thrice a day for weeks when he first had gotten back from Paris, until he could barely walk), but the urge never quite went away (sometimes she really needed a good old-fashioned foursome).  
  
Absence had made their hearts grow fonder, and continued to do so. She and Souji had endured many periods of separation (she lost track of the number of shrine charms she had given him). Even though they now worked in the same building, they felt they didn’t see enough of each other outside of staff meetings, their meals together, bathing together in the hot springs, and a few hours of sleep and sex. They made time for date nights whenever there was a lull in business (real date nights, not just finding her some sport), but the Inn’s success had made those precious evenings more uncommon than they would’ve liked.  
  
It wasn’t until they had been married for four years that an important observation finally dawned on Souji (which seemed obvious in hindsight): His wife dealt with stress by having sex. That certainly explained why they always went into Okina after the craziness of the annual Golden Week busy season concluded.  
  
After he told her, she had a blinding epiphany of her own: She realized that the more stressed she got, the hornier she got. That retroactively explained why she had organized her harried university schedule from orgasm to orgasm. And why she had masturbated like clockwork (every hour, on the hour) during the university entrance exam period, culminating in the fact that she had actually (discreetly) masturbated _during_ the entrance exam for Waseda University, right in her seat in the testing hall (fortunately, everyone else had been too busy to notice her intently rubbing her legs together or her flushed face). And why she had jumped on him at every possible opportunity as their wedding day had approached (she hurled him into changing rooms and public restrooms and behind the shrine while some foxes watched).  
  
Her little habit had been rather effective, since she usually felt quite relaxed, despite the punishing schedule she had kept at university and as manager of a bustling inn. She had laughed when she thought about how her father should’ve kept a mistress or two on the side to enjoy the healthy, stress-relieving benefits of frequent sex, before she grossed herself out thinking about her father having sex.  
  
Knowing just how involved her parents would be as she and Souji tried for children (and the inevitable endless litany of child-rearing suggestions that would follow the birth), this little relaxation technique of hers would actually work out quite well (it meant she and Souji would certainly be _trying_ quite a lot).  
  
But right at that moment during her last tryst, she was more concerned about sucking out and swallowing every last precious drop of sticky cum from James’s delicious cock, the tip of which was tickling her tonsils (years of supplementing her diet with fresh semen had turned her gag reflex into more of a gag suggestion) while she teased his shaft with her nimble tongue.  
  
She wanted to leave James as clean as when he had arrived.  
  
\---  
  
Yukiko had introduced Souji to her mistress during his final winter break from university. It had been a little comical to see Souji profusely thank Keiko for taking care of his Yukiko; most boyfriends didn’t sincerely thank sex toy shopkeepers for organizing orgies for their girlfriends, but Souji was nothing if not polite.  
  
While Souji had been cooking an extravagant _kaiseki_ thank-you dinner for Keiko in her apartment (“Yuki-chan, I hate you. Does he have a brother?” had been Keiko’s verdict after one bite of the _sakizuke_ ), conversation had been the usual assortment of getting-to-know-you questions.  
  
Souji had seemed fascinated by Keiko’s childhood dream to become a _mangaka_ , which had brought her to Okina to apprentice for one of her favorite artists; Keiko herself had seemed somewhat disillusioned by the drudgery of the work of an assistant _mangaka_ , which partially explained why she was working in a sex toy shop and not drawing _(“Why a sex toy shop, Maehara-san?” -- “Best employee discount I can think of. And it’s Kei-chan to you, Souji-kun.”)_.  
  
Eventually, after twelve courses (including one of Yukiko’s favorites, Souji’s version of _shirako ponzu_ ) and over some after-dinner tea, Souji asked Keiko the question that Yukiko herself had always been curious about. “Keiko-san, if you don’t mind me asking, why do you help Yukiko with her... hobby? We’re both very thankful to you, but I’m curious.” He could see her flinch a little. “If you don’t want to answer, I understand.”  
  
There had been an awkward pause as Keiko stared into her tea, before answering flatly. “I like having sex. I love having sex. I love having sex with lots of guys. But once, I... I got in over my head. They roughed me up, made me do things... I don’t want that to happen to Yuki-chan.” She then stood abruptly and put on a bright smile. “Souji-kun, thanks for the _amazing_ dinner, it was _orgasmic_. Since you cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”  
  
The remainder of the evening had finished as pleasantly as it had began, as they all pitched in with the cleaning and Souji told embarrassing stories about his girlfriend (she really didn’t think Keiko needed to know about the King’s Game), but the mood had been spoiled for Yukiko’s ultimate plan. She had wanted to conclude their little dinner party with a threesome, but it was clear that Keiko wasn’t keen on sex that night; without her partner-in-crime on the same wavelength, Yukiko knew that she wouldn’t be able to wrestle Souji into bed with a girl he had just met.  
  
Yukiko had been much more saddened a few months later, when Keiko had decided to move back to her hometown, a small town on the outskirts of Kobe. The circumstances had been tragic: Keiko’s father had suddenly suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. Keiko had wanted to go home to look after her mother, who had taken her husband’s unexpected death quite hard. Keiko herself had become rather depressed in the immediate aftermath (her father had been the one to encourage her to follow her childhood dream to Okina); Yukiko did her best to console her.  
  
Yukiko had felt like a monster when a hideously selfish thought had immediately come to her as Keiko tearfully told her the news: Keiko’s departure from Okina meant that Yukiko had to fend for herself for six months until Souji returned from France (rather than risk any blind one-night stands, she ended up using Keiko’s very generous employee discount to purchase another pair of her favorite model of vibrator, so that there would always be at least one fully charged up to satisfy her increasingly frequent need to masturbate; she also bought a slimmer version for use in her ass).  
  
As Keiko’s train home pulled into the station a few days later, Yukiko tearfully hugged her friend and comrade-in-arms.  
  
“Kei-chan, call me if you need anything, I’m here for you. And if you find yourself in Inaba, there’s always a room waiting for you at the Inn. We sluts have to stick together, right?”  
  
Keiko cracked a small smile. “Right.”  
  
\---  
  
On the evening before he left for Paris, Souji had taken her for a long walk through town that ended with them sitting at the same little gazebo where she had first been alone with him six years earlier. Back then, she had been absorbed in her own worries, and hadn’t really thought much about the soft-spoken transfer student.  
  
How times had changed.  
  
She could tell that he had been unusually nervous as he took her hand in his (she could almost see little sweat drops flying off his head). It had probably been trepidation for moving to a foreign country for two years.  
  
“Yukiko, I... I can’t imagine being without you...”  
  
She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’ll miss you, too, but you’ll be back soon. And we’ve been apart before, we can handle this. I’ll be waiting right here for you when you come home.”  
  
“Mmmm, that’s not exactly what I had meant.”  
  
“Then--?”  
  
He had stared out over the horizon to the sunset as he spoke. “Ever since you joined the Investigation Team, I knew I couldn’t be without you. And it wasn’t just because of your abilities, which described you so perfectly; you’re gentle and nurturing, but you have such a strong will and fiery passion inside.  
  
“Back then, I asked for you to be in every battle because I needed you, and not just for Recarm and Agidyne. I needed you close, because I don’t think I could have faced all that pressure without you supporting me, without your faith in me.  
  
“And I was being a little selfish, because I loved just being with you, just having you by my side, just sitting here like this. I could do this forever. I’d do anything for you--”  
  
“Even eat my cooking?” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
He had smiled at the threat. “Yes, I would even eat Mystery Food X and boneless omelettes for the rest of my life if that’s what it took to be with you.  
  
“Because, more seriously, I can never forget that you had been the first one to sacrifice yourself for me when we confronted Izanami.”  
  
She had smiled a little, remembering that they had had room-destroying thank-god-we’re-alive sex at Dojima-san’s house after that final battle, sex that had left her wonderfully sore for days afterwards (being reminded of her absent boyfriend whenever she gingerly tried to sit down had been a nice parting gift, she thought; hopefully, he had thought about her when working on the replacement Agni model kit she bought him).  
  
He continued. “I don’t think I could ever fully return the favor, but...”  
  
Trembling, he had knelt before her. “Next time, I want to die _with_ you, after a long and happy life together,” he said as he presented her with a ring. “Will you--”  
  
“Pffffft!” Fear flashed across his face and tears welled up in his eyes as hysterical laughter bubbled out of her. “Hahahahahahahahaha!”  
  
“Yu-Yukiko--?” he asked, voice strained. That clearly hadn’t been the reaction he had been looking for.  
  
“Hahahahahaha... ha... Sou-Souji,” she said as she wiped tears from her eyes when her laughter finally abated enough to speak. “Souji, that’s a really weird way to propose to someone.”  
  
Just as he had been about to protest, she had taken the ring and cut him off with a deep kiss.  
  
“Yes, Souji, yes, of course my answer is yes.”  
  
He had finally relaxed in her arms, all the anxiety that had knotted him up having melted away when he had heard her answer. “Th-Thank god! I guess... I guess I shouldn’t have used the whole ‘I want to die with you’ line after all, huh? I knew I should’ve gone with ‘I’ll give you my life in return,’ but Yosuke said it wasn’t as romantic.”  
  
“Hahaha, no, I don’t think death is really that romantic, darling... but since we have a little time before your flight, let’s test your French. I’ve heard about something called _la petite mort_...”  
  
“Um, shouldn’t we tell our parents the good news first?”  
  
“Hmph... fine... but make it quick; what I have in mind is going to take _all_ night.”  
  
\---  
  
James had left his well-worn copy of the 2026 Michelin guide in his room after he groggily checked out the next morning, with one of his souvenir bookmarks marking the page where the review of the Amagi Inn lay.  
  
Two more stars and two more pavilions had been drawn in next to the printed two and four (if only she could show her parents this one-of-a-kind four star/six pavilion review); a short personal review had been written in the margins:  
  
 _Yukiko and Souji Amagi, the happily married proprietors of the historic Amagi Inn, extend a level of hospitality to their guests that can only be truthfully described as “divine.” Truly exceptional, worth a special journey. -- James Baker, 2026_  
  
\---  
  
In the spring of 2019, she and Souji had had a very traditional Shinto wedding at Tatsuhime Shrine, followed by a lavish and intimate reception at the Inn (her Inn, the ownership having been transferred right before the wedding).  
  
She had been pristinely beautiful in her _shiromuku_ (the only thing virginal about her, she thought); he had been suitably somber in his _montsuki_ (although his beaming smile ruined the effect somewhat).  
  
Their closest friends and family had gathered around them to celebrate the happy event. It was the first time that all of them -- the Investigation Team (and their plus ones at the time), her parents and grandparents, his parents and grandparents, Dojima-san and Nanako-chan, some friends from high school still in Inaba, a few of her (actual) friends from university, a few of his friends from Kyoto (and even one from Paris), family friends and prominent local families (the Satonakas, Tatsumi-san, Kujikawa-san, the Konishis, the Ichijos, the Ebiharas, the Hanamuras), Keiko (who told a little white lie, telling the others that she had met Yukiko in Tokyo at a bookstore), and all the cooks and maids and waitresses of the Inn who had been her extended family -- had been together in one place.  
  
It had felt a little unusual, because she had been quite used to compartmentalizing her life: Chosokabe/Muku had been a secret from her parents; Investigation Team activities had been hidden, obviously; when she and Souji had first started to date during the summer of 2011, they had kept it from their friends at first to avoid drama within the team; to the rest of town, she was a pillar of the community, the well-mannered proprietor of one of the most important sources of direct and indirect revenue to Inaba; and hardly anyone knew that she cheated besides her husband, not even Chie, to whom she had revealed every other secret.  
  
It had also felt unusual to see her parents dancing awkwardly yet enthusiastically in their formal _kimono_ as Risette came out of retirement for the night to perform some of her greatest hits.  
  
Nevertheless, Yukiko and Souji Amagi basked in the warmth of all their gathered guests, cherishing the connection they had with each and every one of them. She welcomed them all to her Inn, her home.  
  
Hours later, after the revelry had come to an end and the local guests had gone home and the out-of-town guests had retired to their rooms at the Inn, she eagerly dragged her blushing groom by the hand to their suite so they could privately consummate their marriage for the first of many, many times.  
  
Just the two of them.

 

_Fin_


End file.
